Delusions of Grandeur: 28th Annual Hunger Games
by Alecxias
Summary: Now, as the dawn of another exciting Hunger Games begin, let's all stop to think about our dear first President of Panem after the Dark Days to have brought a resurgence to his country. The person who has brought the country of Panem together. These Hunger Games are therefore dedicated to him, so may his legacy last forever.
1. The Man and his Demons

_**The Capitol  
Two weeks after the conclusion of the Twenty-seventh Hunger Games**_

* * *

"_In remembering our dear President, Laomedes Augustus. A man who has fought for this country to unite and nurture them under his wing, able to quell the greatest of rebellions. May he rest in peace, may he watch over us for the trying times to come."_

He shuts off the television with a scowl on his face. There's nothing more condescending than the daily news outlet and stations painting you as a villain for succeeding a now deceased leader of Panem. He throws the controller across the room, shattering it into various pieces.

"What could you possibly be angry about now?" Sighs one of his assistants as he walks into the room.

Penelope Deim, with her striking orange hair and white framed glasses look the man in the eyes with fierceness, daring him to say something, even a little bit. He thinks himself out of talking back, he knows full well how much he depends on his assistants. She looks at the television screen and the controller for it across the room, lying in its broken form.

"Don't mind the media, Julius," she says as she puts the clipboard she holds down on the dressing table. "Makeup and stylist will be here in an hour, I've sent Jacob to get you some food. Everything is going according to plan."

"Thank you, Ms. Deim." He says, always the polite gentleman that he is. "It just…riles me up how they still clamour for their president, he's dead. Cardiac arrest is a bitch, it's time to move on."

"Rightly so, sir." Penelope says as she picks the clipboard up and heads for the room. "I have some more things to organise, people to see and stages to set up. Do you think I can leave you along in that time?"

"Yes, I won't lose my temper again."

She only smiles at the sentiment, she knows that it's not going to be the last time he loses his temper. Ever since campaigning to become President of Panem, Julius Nepos has been in a lot of stress. Eating and drinking has become but mere hobbies in his pursuit to become the highest ranking official of Panem.

He sighs as he sits on one of the leather seats of the dressing room, he made it. He's here and yet he doesn't feel like the most powerful person in the world, not yet anyway. He needs to distract the citizens from that old man and focus the light on him.

What that is, he doesn't quite know yet.

* * *

_**Penelope Deim  
Assistant to President Julius Nepos  
Capitol Square**_

* * *

They stand there, the two of them, her and Jacob Phob, watching their new president take the mantle of the previous office. They both believe in him, wholeheartedly. They've been together ever since the First Quarter Quell, where they hear whispers that the president at the time was in bad health.

Penelope is recruited first, out of ten or so applicants, she excels in talking and spinning. She graduates first of her class at the University of Panem, first honours and everything else. She has potential to be one of the greatest citizens of Panem, but she throws it all away when she meets Julius Nepos, a graduate of the same university only, talk about reform and changes to how they handle the Hunger Games.

She is enthralled with the man, admires him from afar, so much so that she applies to be his assistant. A politician graduate under another politician can not only help boost her status but her job prospects.

In essence, she strikes terror in those that cross her. A sweet outer shell and pure business within, she leaves no stone unturned. So, she's proud when her president makes it to the stage, the balcony overlooking the citizens of her home city. She stands there, proud, along with Jacob as they listen in on his speech.

"It is hard to believe that twenty-seven years ago, I didn't know if I was going to live or not, a student back in those days ripped from his family to join the efforts of quelling the rebellion. It was quashed, in part because of our mighty strength and loyal allies, but also because of our dear President.

Not only did he single handedly unite the districts together, but he also made sure they are kept in line and treated fairly. His diligence and strict nature are what drew me to strive for greatness, after the war that decimated our Panem, I went back to school, studied to become a politician in hopes that one day I can lead Panem much like what he had done.

And it's all thanks to you, my citizens of the Capitol and of Panem, that I stand here today. My aim is to uphold the legacy he leaves behind, but also add my own. Together, with your cooperation, we can make the Capitol and her district greater, stronger and better!"

She claps for him, everyone does. She knows that the man can be very convincing, he's the epitome of charisma when it comes to the public, she only helps along with anything. She goes to hug him when he comes back into the room, away from the noise; the cheers and claps of the citizens.

"Well done, sir." She says as they pull away from the hug.

"Thank you, Penelope, I wouldn't have made it without the help of you two." He says.

She nods as he is escorted by a league of Peacekeepers into his car, back to his new home. The presidential mansion located on the outskirts of the Capitol.

* * *

_**Jacob Phob  
Assistant to President Julius Nepos  
Presidential Manor**_

* * *

The party is in full swing, a band plays melancholic music, loud enough to as to not disturb all the guests as they dance, talk and engorge themselves on all the food. Jacob Phob, however, is standing by the side-lines, beside the punchbowl leaning against a cream coloured pillar.

"You're not going to join in?" Penelope appears beside him, she's dressed in a crystal coloured dress, jewels hang on the hems of her dress, enough for him to dub her 'ice queen'.

"Not a party person," he replies, he's wearing a similar coloured outfit, something about the president's stylist stating that they should match as they are both the assistants or something like that. "Besides, I have to be vigilante of a certain person."

"And who might that person be?" She raises her eyebrows with that question and he just puts a single finger to his lips.

"My secret mission from the boss-man himself." He says as he smooths his platinum blond hair.

He disappears into the dancing crowd, enough to make sure that Penelope cannot see him anymore. When he emerges on the other side of the ballroom he meets, eye to eye, deep green ones with soft brown ones.

"Mr. Price?" He approaches him with enthusiasm. "I was wondering if I may have a word?"

"Me? Well, yeah, and you are?"

"Jacob, Jacob Phob." He says as he shakes the man's hand. "I'm one of President Nepos' assistants."

"Of course! How can I forget you?" He says as he pulls away his hand. "Would you like to go somewhere quieter?"

"Yes, I know just the place." Jacob says, and he leads the way, away from the crowds.

They end up somewhere in the garden, the night air is chilling, yet it doesn't warrant any extra coverings on. The sky is clear, no clouds in sight as the deep black and navy blue display an array of stars. The men sit on one of the benches in the garden, the smell of flowers invade their nostrils as they do so.

"Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"Simple." The tone in his voice shift slightly, enough to make the older man raise an eyebrow. "You are to give up your position as Gamemaker."

"Are you threatening me?" He stammers as he looks around.

"Not a threat, but a strongly worded advice." He says as he watches the stars in the sky. "Would be a shame if you turn up dead somewhere for not following our instruction?"

"Our? Did President Nepos put you up to this?"

"Him? Oh, no." He says with a faux shock. "He would never do such a thing, _I _am doing this for him. You are part of the old regime, the one with that old fart, therefore you, Mr. Price, need to go."

And with that he leaves the man alone by himself, feeling confused and scared. He doesn't turn back as he makes his way back to the party, to enjoy himself a little maybe. As a recent graduate of the University of Panem as well, Jacob Phobs was and continues to be second in everything, but he doesn't care about that.

Where Penelope brings terror to those that cross her, Jacob brings the fear that can shake everyone to their core. Devoted only to the president, Jacob will act as his left hand if he wanted him to.

* * *

**Hey, Alec here back with a brand new SYOT, a sort of tie-in to my Victor Compendium: 'The Lazy Lamentations of Cade Valentine'.**

**A bit of backstory there, I have always intended for TLLCV to have victors made by authors, I didn't how quite to do it instead of having people just submit. I wanted them to give them history, personality, all those things that make a character. So there are certain points in the timeline where I have reserved them as SYOTs, and this is the first one.**

**As any other SYOT, I don't know who the victor is going to be, it is literally up to whomever makes the winning character I suppose. In my excel spreadsheet, I have the victors of the 27th and the 29th Hunger Games already but not the 28th. Who the victor is, well that's what this story's purpose is I suppose. I'll list down the rules here. A copy of the tribute form will be here and on my profile.**

**Rules:  
**

-** Submit as many characters as you want.** _Preferably between 1-3, let's not saturate the character count to few authors. If you submit more than 3 then I'll probably just pick 1 or 2._

\- **Please mail all submissions through PM. **_Guest reviews and whatnot take the magic away, let's keep the secrecy and the waiting alive! With that said, feel free to reserve a spot, if you're dead set on only submitting one tribute and have a district in mind, let me know and I'll do something about it!_

-** No resubmissions! **_Or atleast if it is a resubmission, then make sure the fic you submitted to is long gone and have no prospect of staying alive, or change it enough that I don't even recognise the character._

**\- Details, details, those damn details.** _I only really ask for you ro be slight detailed, it helps me out a lot and gives me an understanding of your character(s)._

_-_ **Patience! **_I have a full time job, there are days I've not had any time at all, at least expect something from me every two weeks, if not then you can kick me and poke me for a chapter._

_-_ **This isn't a first come, first serve thing. **_I want to see a variety first before I choose, make it a real Sophie's choice for me here!_

**-** **Follow along with the side piece, 'The Weary Whims of Vincent Cait'. **_This is a companion piece to all my future SYOTs and Victor's Compendium, it helps you decide how you name your tributes and also provide information on what it's like for tributes to live in my universe._

**\- If you want more information, or if your answers haven't been answered by the above rules, or it leaves you with questions, don't hesitate to PM me! **_I have other tidbits and stuff if you want to go with something I'm planning! My universe is composed of what happened during my last SYOT and it's been a tough and amazing ride._

Form:

_**Name: **__(Fitted with the district profiles if possible, add backstory if not)  
**Age: **(12-18)  
**Gender:  
District: **(Provide backups if possible, preferred at the front and as per preference)  
__**Appearance: **_(_Detailed if possible)__**  
Personality: **_(_Detailed if possible)__**  
History and Background: **_(_Split this up if you want)  
**Family/Friends:**__(Everyone has either a family or friend)  
**Strengths: **(1 word adjectives to describe them, make it balanced with weaknesses)  
_**_Weaknesses:_**_ (Ditto^)  
__**Reaped/Volunteered:  
Reaction/Reason:  
Allies: **(Will they try to go lone wolf or take someone with them)  
**Preferred Weapon:**__(Can't guarantee that it'll appear in the arena, my weapon and arena is set already)  
**Pre-Games Plan: **(From Train Rides to the night before, what do you want them to do?)  
_**_Bloodbath Strategy:_** _(What will they do at such a crucial time?)  
**Games Plan: **(What do you want them to do? What strategy will they have?)  
**Other:  
**-Things like Reaping outfits, chariot outfits, etc. please put here  
-Please provide a face-claim for the tribute, I will say if that face claim is already in use. There is a Victor's blog that is slowly being updated. It is imperative that you submit a face-claim, it's not everyone's cup of tea, I understand, but a blog really helps me keep track of everyone.  
-To ensure you have read this, can you please submit a piece of music you're currently listening to or love listening to._

**Well that's that, I'll add more info on my profile. But back to the story, what do you think of the current president, Julius Nepos? What about the other two guys? Will Rexton Price take the threat lightly? Bonus to whoever guesses the traits for both Penelope and Jacob.**

**Have a nice day/night wherever you are! I look forward to your submissions!**

**~Alec**


	2. Play the Game

_'Most people, in fact, will not take the trouble in finding out the truth, but are much more inclined to accept the first story they hear.'  
~Thucydides _

* * *

_**The Capitol  
Gamemaker Office  
Six weeks after the conclusion of the Twenty-seventh Hunger Games**_

* * *

Rumours circulate in the Capitol all the time. However, the current rumours that circulates back in the office is something Elbert Korando does not like. How that something big is coming, that at any second the whole face of the Hunger Games is about to change. Normally he scoffs at such rumours, but this time he wonders about it. Stirring some form of emotion within his heart as he sits at his desk, pencil in hand as he draws up plans for another arena.

He leans back to admire the work but scrunches it up again and throws it in the trash can beside his desk. He's out of ideas, it's been meadows and forests, lakes and cliffs for the last decade or so and it's honestly getting to him.

However, his friend and current Head Gamemaker, Rexton Price, is not one to stray from tradition and besides the Capitol still likes the scenery the arenas provide, especially now that the past ones have all been opened to the public to explore.

A sigh escapes his lips as he stares at his watch, speaking of, Rexton hasn't come into the building yet and it's nearly lunchtime. The man is normally in by now, even if he is late, he isn't _this_ late. He decides to check in his office, maybe he's wandered in when he was out at the bathroom or something.

Once he exits his own office he bumps into a woman, confident as she looks, she stops and look at him. An eyebrow raises as she scans the man with her dark brown eyes, he does the same and smirk pops into her makeup covered face.

"You must be Mr. Korando." She says as she extends her hand. "Theodora Vidia."

"What are you doing here?" He says so abruptly. "I'm sorry, but this is a private office, only Gamemakers and their assistants are allowed here."

"What do you mean?" She says, a cock of her head. "I'm the new Head Gamemaker."

"Since when?" He says as he steps back to properly scan this intruder, his voice hostile.

"As of…" She looks at her watch, gold and brand new. "Four hours ago now. I can let you see the letter if you want?"

He didn't get a chance to say anything as she practically shoves the letter at his face. He scoffs, but his frown deepens as he sees the signature of the new President as well as his seal. "This isn't real."

"I'm afraid it is." She says as she snatches the letter back. "Now if you'll excuse me."

She barge past the man and walks directly into Rexton's office. He felt a bit of rage boil inside him as she completely disregards his best friend, he barges in after her and she's already sitting on _his _seat and staring out the window. This thirty-something year old, can't just come in to their office and sit down as if she owns the place. That's not how it works, Head Gamemaker or not.

"What a view." She says with a languid sigh, she turns around to see Elbert. "You still following me? Well as your new boss-"

"You're not the boss of me." He interrupts her, and she smirks, waving the piece of paper again.

"According to this letter, I am." She grins in a sing-songy fashing as she turns completely to face him.

"I need to see Rexton, clarify this whole thing out."

"Feel free," she says. "I'll still be here by the end of the day, planning out the next Hunger Games."

Elbert leaves without saying anything, he stops by his office to take his phone and jacket. He dials Rexton's number in hopes of getting through to him, but all attempts end up in his voicemail. He growls as he goes to the elevator presses the button, he'll have to drag him back.

* * *

He had never run so fast in his life to get to his friend's house. He passes by Capitolites going for lunch or coming back from their break; cutting through shortcuts and parks. His mind growing weary of what could have happened to him.

He hopes to whatever higher power that he is all good. He passes by another group of businessmen and as he reaches the apartment complex he stops completely. There's a lot of people, news, Peacekeepers and other services he couldn't remember. He watches them, and his worry grows as he barges past the black and yellow tape, but a Peacekeeper stops him.

"Sir, there has been a murder in this apartment complex, I will need you to stay behind the tape." He says extending his arm out.

"My friend could be in there! I need to find him." He says as he tries to push past but the Peacekeeper would not budge. "I need to make sure he's safe!"

"I won't repeat again, sir."

"Rexton! Rexton!" He shouts when he couldn't get through, his temper rising as he grows frustrated.

At that moment the Peacekeeper is gearing to arrest him until a hand touches the Peacekeeper on the shoulders and he stops to turn around. Elbert gets a look at the man that stops him, and he looks familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. The man whispers into the Peacekeeper's helmet, something that Elbert couldn't hear. At this point he could make a run for it to the building but there's too many white suits everywhere.

"Yes sir," he says, and he leaves, but not before looking at Elbert. "We'll be keeping an eye on you.

"Elbert Korando, a pleasure to finally meet you." The man that stayed says as he extends his hand. "Jacob Phob, President Nepos' assistant."

Elbert bats the hand away, he eyes him suspiciously and the man just shrugs his shoulders. He instead fixes the black tie he's wearing and then his blond hair. There's an air of mystery to him that Elbert can't pinpoint, but he doesn't care for that as he wants to see if his friend is okay.

"Well if you don't mind…"

"Actually." Jacob says. "There's something I need to tell you."

With that, the man walks towards a corner of the sealed grounds, a non-distinct place but well out of any earshot. Elbert follows him, eyeing the building, the floor that he knows his friend is in. He looks away to stare down the younger man, with his white shirt and black tie.

"What do you want from me?" He asks him.

"Firstly," Jacob starts. "The Peacekeeper presence was phoned in by me."

"Why?" He says rather too loudly until he quietens down. "What happened?"

"His door was open, Mr. Price's." He said, then his voice got quiet and dark. "I had a letter from the President to deliver to him, but when I found that his door was opened I walked in, and there I saw his body, lifeless, dead."

"No." Elbert's usual strong voice wavers slightly. "You're lying."

"I wish I could say that I was." He says with a sympathetic tone.

"I don't believe you." Elbert tells him. "He wouldn't just up and die on us now. Not after working so hard to make these Games so successful."

"I guess he couldn't handle the pressure." He said, Elbert noticing the tone shift.

"What pressure?"

"Why, the pressure I put on him I suppose."

"You?"

"You see, Mr. Price wouldn't abide by the rules." He says fixing the sleeves of his white shirt and then his tie again. "I gave him a choice too."

"A choice? Rules? What the fuck are you talking about?" He said, his voice rising with anger. "What did you really do to Rexton?"

"I'm afraid he had to go. He wasn't part of the whole plan. He had a whole month to decide and he clearly took my warning as nothing." He says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"It was you…" He points an accusatory finger at him. "You…killed him, didn't you?"

"Now it's time for _you, _Mr. Korando, to decide." He ignores the angry man opposite him. "Will you join your friend? Or will you comply?"

"Fuck you." He spits, venom spilling out from his mouth. "What good will it do me following this fucked up game of yours?"

"Your life, for one, maybe your family?" He says wondering out loud. "It's not that hard, comply or there will be consequences."

Jacob leaves him before he could reply to his statement. He's seething in his own anger, someone is changing the scene too fast for him to follow. Now this little shit of an 'assistant' is threatening his, and his family's, lives like it's nothing.

He'll play along, oh he will, just so he can look that smug asshole in the eye as he drives something down his chest. He'll do whatever that new bitch of a Gamemaker wants him to do. His usual calm demeanour gone. He discards it to play the game, if they want to play, he'll do it.

It's time for him to play the waiting game.

* * *

_**Penelope Deim  
President's Mansion  
Six weeks after the conclusion of the Twenty-seventh Hunger Games**_

* * *

The door opens and a smug looking Jacob walks in. His brown, leather shoes stomping at the velvet red carpet of the hallway. His hands deep inside his grey suit trousers. He looks at Penelope with light brown eyes and stops opposite her.

"Is it done?" She asks him without hesitating.

"Not even a 'How did it go, Jacob?'" He asks, and she rolls her eyes.

"Is. It. Done?" She asks him one more time, each word growing louder and scarier, but it didn't faze the man at all.

"Yes, it is." This time it is him that's rolling his eyes. "You suck out all the fun."

"One of us has to." She sighs to herself as she walks away. "What about Elbert Korando?"

"I gave him the same warning," Jacob shrugs. "Up to him if he follows it, I think he will."

"It's a shame that Mr. Price didn't just step down like we had asked him."

"Yeah, the man was a visionary."

"Truly." Penelope agrees as she walks away, black heels thud on the carpet.

"What next?" He asks after her, his voice echo the empty hallway.

"Damage control." She shouts back before disappearing around the corner.

Jacob takes his hands out of his pockets, his hand still visibly shaking from the encounter he had with Elbert. There's something about the way the man's passion and camaraderie for his friend that makes him slight envious or is it jealousy? He never could tell the difference.

He has yet to experience something like that, and after someone finds out that he has blood on his hands, he doesn't think anyone will actually be that close with him anymore. He frowns before he turns around, leaving the hallway and going to his room.

He needs a long, cold shower.

* * *

**Hello!**

**The next tentative Prologue of these Games, I have to admit that I have received some good tributes! I'm happy, you warm this boy's heart. Thank you all for the reviews too! That's made me really happy. This chapter is focused more on Elbert than anything, but also I've introduced Ms. Vidia too. She's going to be playing a role in these Games. Stay tuned for her. (Her last name is taken from _Invidia _which is Envy in Latin.) So, that's all I'm hinting about her.**

**So what do you think? Is Jacob secretly a sociopath if he felt something about it? What do you think of Elbert and Theodora?**

**The next two prologues will focus on Victors, and their reaction to the new President, and hopefully by then I'll have a full roster? Wishful thinking on my part I suppose.**

**Couple of things before I sign off:**

**\- Next week I might start selecting tributes to be in the final roster of the Games. I'll post their names on my profile if they have been selected, so stay tuned there. (Please don't get offended if I chose someone over your tribute, I have to match each one with everyone's personality and how I want the story to flow! )  
**

**\- Faceclaims! Those damn faceclaims always ruin our applications eh? Sadly I do need them, I like keeping a blog of victors, it helps me keep track of them all.**

**\- The Strengths and Weaknesses thing. I want mental attributes, like the example I gave in my profile. Anything physical you can add to background/history! So sorry, I think I have told most of those that submitted to redo some, and thank you all for cooperating! Remember you can have a minimum of 4 and a maximum of 6. Also keep it balanced!**

**Well that's that, there won't be much of an update on this story until I get submissions, plus I kinda need to finish the Lazy Lamentations up to the 27th Hunger Games anyway!**

**Have a good day/night!  
~ Alec**


	3. An Invitation, Part One

_"The future is uncertain but the end is always near." _  
_~Jim Morrison_

* * *

_**Chanelle Gieves  
Victor of the Twentieth Hunger Games  
District One; Beacon Academy**_

* * *

Chanelle sips on her tea as she sits by the desk belonging to Balas. The day could not be any better, bright shining sun, no clouds in the sky; perfect for training her set of potential victors outside, yet Balas himself gave every single student a day off.

So, now she sits here, blond hair tied in messy bun as she sips more of her beverage waiting for the rest of the victors. The inauguration of Julius Nepos was televised about an hour ago and with that Balas had called all the victors into the office of his namesake academy.

"So what's so urgent that you gave everyone a day off?" Chanelle asks as she places her cup down on the dark wooden desk belonging to Balas, who only seems to sigh at her question.

"Time will tell, Chanelle, now let's just wait for the others." He says as he goes back to writing on his journal, plans for future students and managing several businesses.

Just as soon as the atmosphere dies down again, the door opens to three more victors. Flash Gladstone walks in first, a curt nod to Chanelle. He's followed by a sullen Jasper Alcott and an equally nervous Pyrite Villiers, covered in some form of soot, she can only assume that Flash had pulled him out of the mine that the youngest victor owns.

"Now that we're all here." Balas says looking up at the victors in the room, once the door is closed. "We received a letter."

"A letter?" Chanelle asks standing up and joining Jasper, who only seems to shrink away.

"From the current president himself." Balas says as he pulls the white envelope with the Capitol seal on it from his suit jacket.

He places it on the dark wooden desk, and everyone closes in on it. Flash picks up the letter and frowns, it's not opened yet. He looks at Balas who only nods, the victor holding the letter opens it, reads it briefly before handing it back to Balas.

"He wants us all, the victors of every district, to meet with him when we're in the Capitol."

"That doesn't make sense." Jasper says as he steps forward from the wall he was leaning on, snatching the letter from Balas, who just let him do it without flinching, everyone is used to Jasper's abrupt nature at this point. "The previous president didn't want anything to do with us."

"This is different." Balas says as he sits down on his leather chair, nursing the impending headache. "This Julius Nepos is fierce, if you think about it. He's younger, charismatic than the old coot; he managed to get the most votes out of three competitors in the previous election, he must be doing something."

Jasper stays quiet as he hands the letter back to his best friend, Flash, and stands back beside Pyrite who has not said anything, but even if he did, there's no changing the fact that they all at some point will meet this Julius Nepos.

"So what do we do?" Flash asks still scanning the letter as if there is going to be anything else hidden within it, a secret message or anything.

"We follow what he wants, and just lay low." Balas says, and Chanelle could hear Jasper scoff in the background. "It may just be a friendly meet and greet."

Chanelle tries to scan the older victor. She narrows her eyes, ever since she had emerged victorious from her own Hunger Games, she has experienced how insufferable Balas could be. She's grateful for what he has done for her, but there's now an inkling of doubt with everything Balas comes up with. The aftermath of the Twenty-first Hunger Games changed him slightly, but there's still that growing doubt.

She assumes that the second ever victor is planning something, another chance to peddle his academy to the Capitol and propel his status. She has never related to Jasper so much in her life from then on.

"Okay, so that's settled." Flash says as he turns to face Chanelle and the others. "You guys agree?"

Chanelle nods, but she's cautious. Jasper and Pyrite reluctantly nod their heads. All three of them silently agreeing that it's not a good idea but accepting that there's no other choice in the matter at this current time. Flash smiles, seemingly oblivious and tries to leave it there and then, to get ready for the Hunger Games, to start planning on who still needs to be chosen for the Games.

They all still have to pick the chosen volunteer too. Well Chanelle and Flash have that job now, with consultation from Pyrite. Balas lost that privilege since the '_Vermilion incident_'. That's when Chanelle remembers her fellow victor.

"Hold up," Chanelle says and Flash stops at his tracks. "Julius Nepos asks for _all _victors."

Everyone looks at her as if she's spouting nonsense, and she sighs. "Vermilion?"

"That's right." Jasper pipes up, glaring at Balas. "Last time I checked he was still a victor."

Balas and Flash look at both of them as if he's crazy. Considering the five of them in this room are all from Greater Houses and Vermilion is not, he sometimes gets forgotten about. That and the fact that the boy has become unhinged ever since his victory, having locked himself in his own basement.

Chanelle often visits him, maybe as atonement for what Balas and his crooked academy has done to him, or just to show some form of mercy. She knows that the Hunger Games affect people so much, she's befriended many of the other female victors and they have the same feeling of uneasiness and reports of nightmares since winning.

"I'll handle it." Chanelle says and looks at Jasper. "I'll leave the mentoring duties to you, Jasp, if that's okay? I'll handle Vermilion."

Jasper nods. "If I must, I'll take young Pyrite here, he's been as quiet as a mouse."

"Well it's settled then." Balas says. "We'll reconvene in the Capitol in the next couple of weeks."

* * *

_**Leroy Ramnes  
Victor of the First Hunger Games  
District Two; Justice Building**_

* * *

He had watched the inauguration inside the Justice Building, the mayor beside him. His arms were crossed as a feeling of dread crept from the tip of his spine all the way up to his head. What was a nice and sunny morning was ruined by the smug and vainglorious face of Julius Nepos.

That's when the mayor hands him a letter from the same person he so much despises. A quick read through it, states that all victors are to attend to the Capitol, no 'ifs' or 'buts'. He sighs as he asks for Ajax to round up all the current Two victors.

"There better be a good idea for us to see your ugly mug," Lyre Feldspar walks in first, the familiar loud victor and her hate filled tone makes Leroy smirk.

Following her is her brother-in-law, Drusus, and behind him is Fossil. All three so obviously oppose him, and with good reason too. He doesn't care not if he had wronged Drusus in the past, or if he had planned to use Fossil's sisters as test subjects for his now formed school. Lyre Feldspar was the only failed experiment, having totally bypassing him and being trained by Drusus instead.

"Ms. Feldspar, a pleasure as always."

"What do you want from us?" Drusus interjects his sister before she could make or do anything that they all will regret.

"A summons." Leroy says as he walks towards the three. "I hope you all watched our new president's inauguration?"

"I couldn't care less." Fossil says as he sulks his way into the corner. "So long as he leaves us alone, I don't care."

At that moment, Ajax walks into the room, Adrestia follows him in. With that, all six of the current victors of Two are assembled. Leroy takes the letter back from Drusus, who stands still, eyebrows in a furrow. He doesn't speak for a while, and Leroy is about to say something when he stops him.

"That doesn't make any sense." He says, at first, Lyre by his side tilts her head.

"What do you mean?" She asks. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"This sudden invitation, we victors never get invited to the Capitol. Not ever."

Leroy scoffs, maybe not Drusus, but Leroy has been invited several times to the Capitol during the first ten years after his Games. He's been in and out of the Capitol for years drumming up business opportunities, gambling away lives.

The very same excursions he did in the past is why he has called everyone to the Justice Building. He could barely remember Julius Nepos, there's hazy moments of him meeting the man years ago, but he does not completely remember.

"Julius Nepos, the new president; he can't be trusted." He says suddenly and both Ajax and Adrestia look at him, both with surprise on their faces.

Leroy could only see Drusus, his oldest protégé look at him eyebrows raised. His hardened features now softened from marriage. A brief moment in which Leroy reflects wasted potential on the man, but now he stares at Drusus with dark brown eyes, deathly serious.

It's as if he's almost scared of the man, Julius, himself. That's not easy to say or admit for sure. Leroy doesn't scare easily, how else would he have trained so many victors in his lifetime and continue to manage Gladius Academy on top of all of that; not to mention the occasional Lyre Feldspar special, in which she spars with the man with intent to kill, almost always stopped by either Ajax or Drusus upon discovery of the fact.

"Okay, say I believed you." Drusus nods and Fossil starts to speak, leaving his corner and going across towards the rest of them.

"You can't be serious." He says as he burst past Drusus and Lyre. "This man here." He points to Leroy, who just raises an eyebrow. "Is the absolute epitome of untrustworthy."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." Leroy says as he pushes the accusatory finger belonging to Fossil. "You don't need to believe me now, but just you watch; in the coming years, this man is far more dangerous than he appears to be."

* * *

_**Rolex Parker  
Victor of the Eighteenth Hunger Games  
District Three; Victor's Village**_

* * *

He paces the room, darkness has come and the only light illuminating the study of his home in Three is the lamp standing proudly in the corner. His brown suede shoes click and clack on the wooden floors, occasionally softening up when it reaches faded red rugs and other scattered papers.

His desk, a majestic dark oak displays his messy nature, but the middle is all clear except for the open letter. Rolex didn't anticipate the words written so neatly and concisely could bear so much weight.

He must have done something, he doesn't know what yet, but deep down he knows there's something the Capitol saw last year. He just needs to figure it out first. He feels like screaming as he hits his flat palm against the books on the dusty shelves, the vibration scatters dust everywhere threatening to make tears fall.

He misses the days where he would just solve everything through fighting, where he was not expected to do anything because he knew his golden boy of an older brother would take care of it all. He's all alone now, Rolex lost most of his family members after he had distanced himself.

In truth, Rolex enjoys the solace of being alone. However, the letter had changed that feeling; there's a chill in the air that wasn't there before. There's something coming and he doesn't know what.

He stops pacing and sits back down on his desk, loose papers scatter a bit with the force of him sitting down. One such was his invitation to open the Parker Institute of Science and Technology. His only legacy, and he didn't have any input on it. He's sure that his family must know about that opening but no one had come to congratulate him after, he didn't really deserve it.

A soft sight escapes his lips as he leans back into the chair, his shirt ruffles a bit as he looks at the dark wooden ceiling. The battle is only beginning, his wish to solve everything through scrapping and disappointing his family is over, but a new fight is going to begin.

One that involves the new president.

* * *

_**Arlo Venilia  
Victor of the Twelfth Hunger Games  
District Four; Victor's Village**_

* * *

He couldn't remember the last time he ran fast like this. Tearing through the streets, into alleyways; and past market stalls, straying far from the centre of the district, where the Justice Building is, all the way back to the Victor's Village. He passes by many faces he had met before, as well as many of his own students back in Triton Academy.

There's important news, as he comes from the announcement of the regime under Julius Nepos in the Capitol. A new president, and a letter that came with it has been sent addressed to all the victors of Four. Already his mind is going through every single possible scenario to what they letter may entail.

The Victory's Village is always quiet, especially more so as he arrives. The gravel surrounding the pathways crunch under his feet as he passes his own home into Tide Seaworth's house. The iron gates open with a screech-like sound as he stops running. He realises how much that takes the breath out of him as he begins panting.

The door to the older victor's home is open and he rushes inside thinking of the worst already, hazel eyes wide open. He kicks off his shoes and heads for the kitchen, where Tide is normally found. There he sees the man looking at him the minute he walks in, eyebrows raised.

"You look like you've ran a marathon." Tide begins to chuckle, but it slowly subsides as Arlo's face is a lot more serious than before.

"I thought someone had broken in!" He practically screams at him. "Your front door is open."

"It's because you left your dog with me when you went to the Justice Building."

Arlo closes his eyes and slaps his hand to his face. He had completely forgot about Seaweed; the little mutt who had found its way to his home a week after his Victory Tour had ended, only for him to get attached and finally keeping it.

"I forgot." He says, almost cursing the little dog. "Enough about Seaweed though, we need to talk about this."

He walks closer to Tide and passes the man the white letter. The older victor scans it closely, it's still sealed with a wax seal of the Capitol. The feel of the letter is light, yet it's conveying more weight than one could imagine.

"Where's Triton?" Tide asks as he looks from the envelope to Arlo.

"He'll be around for breakfast," he replies. "He's tying up some loose ends within the Academy in preparation for the upcoming test."

"Right."

Arlo looks at his fellow victor, he couldn't shake the feeling that Tide is still regretting becoming the headmaster of the school. Opening Triton Academy, although great and amazing for the youth of Four, has been quite a disaster. Children of reaping age are volunteering frequently and having to physically stop Tide from shouting is harder than it sounds.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Tide says, snapping back into reality. "Yeah."

He walks over to the sink and begins to wash some leftover dishes, he looks outside to the grassy garden, morning dew still fresh from this morning's salty mist. The sun shining, already quite high in the sky, the warmth trying it's best to evaporate the water on the grass.

"I suppose you watched the inauguration." Arlo says as he stands beside him, taking a cloth and drying the dishes.

"We are dealing with something completely different now." Tide says pensively, "Someone new has entered the spotlight, and for the first time I'm not sure how this will end up."

"We may need to be more careful from now on."

"We were always careful."

* * *

_**Hamish Brighton  
Victor of the Nineteenth Hunger Games  
District Five; Victor's Village**_

* * *

He sits there, in his own room, the letter stares back at him as if it's about to drill a hole through his head. It's almost symbolic, the way the light from his desk lamp hits the letter. The wax seal reflecting a tiny bit of the light, red in colour like the blood that had been shed in every Hunger Games so far.

The last couple of years have been lonely for him, the endless deaths of his tributes contributed to him isolating himself. His sisters have outgrown him, he's almost twenty-seven. His eldest sister had moved out first, after meeting up with her now husband and then her other sister moved out a year ago. His mother too did the same to support his sisters as they're now raising their own kids.

His thoughts travel towards the future, if his nephew and nieces grow up to the Hunger Games still running. He slams his fist on the table, shaking the light around before settling. It's a slim chance of it ever being abolished, the Capitol is profiting off everything victor related.

Now with this new president, Julius Nepos, everything is going to change for the worst. The anger rises again, another thing he can't control. Therapy isn't helping his anger at all, he refuses to take the prescribed medications, it's not going to help him.

He had opened the letter after the announcement of the Julius Nepos' presidency. He could remember how nice it was of a morning, the sun was shining in what seems like a long-time considering rain is pretty common in Five.

The letter wanted him to meet with the president, an informal affair, during the next Hunger Games; he wants to get to know the victors a bit more. Somehow Hamish doubts that very much. The last president he had ever met threatened his family as he placed the golden crown upon his head, it's why the rest of his interview he was angry.

He wishes that this year will be different, but he doesn't think that's the case at this point. He breathes out slowly, his anger slowly decreasing with each breath in and out. He can feel himself calm down a bit more as he stands up.

He needs to get himself mentally prepared for the next couple of weeks as the reapings is approaching fast. There's bound to be surprises the minute he steps his foot back in that filthy Capitol.

* * *

_**Dashiell 'Dash' Stoppard  
Victor of the Twenty-fourth Hunger Games  
District Six; Victor's Village**_

* * *

There are days where he wonders why he's here. He's lying on the plush white sofa in his home within the safety of the Victor's Village. In reality he's supposed to be six feet underground, preferably in a box.

Sometimes he wishes that's the case, as his mind is plagued with visions of his own Hunger Games. Not that a forest scene was traumatic, but for what he had experienced. Nightmares of that One boy still appears every time he tucks himself in his own bed when the sun comes down.

It's constant, the visions and the nightmares, they never quite leave the back of his mind. Always there to remind him of the events, the way he's injured, the pain blossoming from his shoulder every time he thinks of it. A slice to his leg, makes his stature buckle.

He ran for his life during that time, when the One boy had finally found him. His takeaway from the Hunger Games was a shoulder injury, a large gash from a sword, never quite healing properly. He's unable to lift more than a few kilograms with his left arm, he's eternally useless, even to his own tributes.

His mind flashbacks to the first Quarter Quell, reports of him withdrawing from Morphling and being under the influence the whole way through training, along with his own tributes. He felt disgraced, laughed at, and pitied by his fellow victors.

He screams, loudly as it echoes through the empty walls of the house. His breathing hitches and out comes a panic in his mind, for some reason he can't manage to breathe. Air seemingly not able to make it into his lungs to expand and circulate oxygen around his body. His head feels light yet sore, the pain in his shoulder feels heavy.

He clambers out of the sofa, his feet heavy like lead as he tries his best to stagger towards the nearest bathroom. His entire lounge area is a mess, much like his entire life. His parents have long since abandoned him, as they work hard in their corporate job and business in the central of the district.

As far as he knows, they don't have son. He doesn't even think they're together anymore. He breathes faster, as his hands begin to shake at the thought. The light-headedness he's feeling subsides into a pounding headache as he reaches the bathroom.

The mirror of the medicine cabinet reflects a young man that's aged a years beyond twenty-two. Greasy brown hair matted down to his forehead, sweat cover his entire face, dripping down his chin. Brown eyes sits on top of dark bags. He's sleeping less and less each day, in an attempt to ward off the nightmares.

Dash ignores all of these in favour of opening the cabinet, immediately he's faced with a vial, crystal blue in colour with a white top. White powder can be seen inside, if you squint hard enough. He grabs this with shaking hands and grabs a spoon that had sat beside it.

He shakily places the powder on the spoon, heating it up with a lighter in his pocket. The red flame illuminates the surrounding area like hellfire, he watches the powder dissolve into liquid, he throws the lighter on the sink as he shakily grabs at a needle and syringe.

A quick pull and all the liquid are inside the syringe already, the spoon clatters to the off-white tiles of the bathroom as he slides down the wall beside the sink. He takes off the belt from his faded-out jeans and tightens it around his left arm making veins pop.

He's still got good veins. There's a brief moment where Dash pauses, contemplating if he should do this before inserting the needle into the vein. In almost one big push, he injects all of the now melted powder into the vein.

It's almost instantaneous after he relaxes the belt, the effects of the substance shooting up his arm, relieving the pain from the shoulder. It travels around the whole body, a sigh escaping his lips as it physically relaxes his body.

His eyes close soon, his addled brain goes radio silent. No more visions of his arena, and thoughts about the injury. Everything in that moment is gone, fading slowly as he relaxes further into himself.

In a few hours' time it's all going to come back again, and he'll repeat the process, over and over until he forgets about it all entirely.

* * *

**A/N**

**And hello! It's been a while, I've been busy updating TLLCV, I have written all the victor stories up to the 27thHG and will be slowly uploading them. Enough about that, what do you think of this chapter?**

**Is Vermilion ever going to get out of the basement? What is Leroy hiding? Is Rolex itching for a fight? Will Seaweed be okay? Can Hamish find happiness in the next couple of weeks of the Hunger Games? Will we ever see Dash recover from such a heavy addiction?**

**Those are just the snippets of some of the victors in my universe. This is third out of five prologues. Two more to go! Which is good timing because I am in need of tributes still. Those with submissions are great, but I want a variety to choose from. Some I've just accepted right on the spot because the character fit the way I want the story to go, whereas others are sort of stuck in limbo at the moment; and others is another submission by an author to which I have already accepted a character from, saving it until the deadline if no other characters were submitted.**

**Saying that, I do still need some characters, I have a good mix of young and older tributes too.**

**D1F  
****D10F  
****D12F**

**D4M  
D5M  
D9M  
D10M  
D12M  
**

**I know that D9M has a lot of submissions already, but some of those characters I'm keeping reserved as the authors have already submitted a different tribute that I have accepted already. So feel free to submit to any of these places! I look forward to seeing your submissions!  
**

**~Alec**

_**[The Vermilion Incident refers to chapter 22 of TLLCV. Basically retells Vermilion's slow descent into madness.]**_


	4. Brief Insight into Envy

_"They prefer their meals alive and terrified, for fear is their favorite sauce."  
~Donald Firesmith_

* * *

_**Theodora Vidia  
Head Gamemaker  
The Capitol**_

* * *

It had to have been raining on the day you're to present the grand designs of the new arena heading into the Hunger Games. Theodora has never been lucky in that regards, weather has been her worst enemy ever since her first day at university.

It had happened already, when she was interviewing for the position of Head Gamemaker all those years ago. The rain happened so suddenly, she had thought that it would be fine but as she neared the location the rain had drenched her from head to toe, makeup ran down her face and she didn't even attempt to interview.

She had spent the next couple of years watching Rexton Price reap in the rewards, gaining the spotlight of being the newest thing about the Hunger Games. A Gamemaker in charge of the Hunger Games, like some showrunner. She remembers the way her insides would twist and curl as she sees the man, smiling away at the Capitol.

In her mind, he stole her dream job.

Now she sits, watching the Capitolites scramble away from the rain. Umbrellas of different colours start to pop and shield them from the onslaught of water. Her mind is running through scenarios for when the president makes it into her office in less than two hours from now.

The floor to ceiling windows is soon covered with water particles, reflecting the high noon sun, and other neon lights, but also obscuring the view of the buildings and people below. It blocks all the other buildings of the Capitol she loves so much. Her sigh escapes her as a knock on the door makes her turn from the view and facing the very man she currently dislikes.

Elbert Korando, who has since accepted his new role as assistant to the Head Gamemaker, stands with plans in his hands. A curt brown eyebrow raises from Theodora's face as the man walks in sits on one of her plush chairs.

"May I help you, Mr Korando?" She asks, eyebrow still raised. "Surely it should be lunchtime now, and you're to get our food, no?"

"I'll get it after this." He says, so dismissively as he opens up a plan on her desk.

She couldn't help but cringe slightly as she rests back to her poker face. He may be the assistant now, but the man still can't help but bring in ideas for her. She just looks at the blueprints, several scrawling of words pointing to something in his arena make her laugh slightly.

"Another forest?" She says. "That simply won't do."

"Why not?" He asks, anger slightly rising. "It's what Rexton would have wanted."

The name irks her slightly, she furrows her eyebrows enough to stand up from her chair. Her domineering stature, due to her red high heels, tower over Elbert, who stays defiant. She wants this man gone from her office, but under the president's command, he's to stay. She'll find a way to get rid of him, and soon.

"I don't want to hear any more about Rexton Price." She says, in a rather raised voice. "A forest scene eighteen years in a row is hardly what the Capitol wants."

"And you do?"

"Of course! It's why _I'm _the Head Gamemaker and you're just my assistant."

She smirks when the man in front of her scrunches his hands together, turning tanned hands into a mixture of red and light brown. She loves the feeling of making Elbert angry, and soon enough she'll love the feeling of seeing this very man leave her office.

It seems to her, that Elbert Korando has not forgotten about his best friend as of yet, even though it's been weeks since they confirmed the man dead, or at least missing as they have not discovered a body. The Capitol forgets the tributes in less time than that when it comes to the Hunger Games. Although she attributes it to the amount of indulgence everyone does.

"Well I still think you should listen to my ideas." He says with a huff as he takes back the blueprint from her mahogany desk.

"Why should I do that?" She smirks some more as she fixes the picture frame of her husband and kids. "After the rude introductions all those weeks ago, why should I even listen to you?"

"Because we're in this together." He says and gets up to leave.

She doesn't understand what he means by that, and before she could ask the man has left; either to get the lunch orders or for the day. She doesn't care as much, but still his last words circulate around her head like a whirlpool.

Manicured hands make its way to her mouth, she bites her thumb lightly as she sits back down. Her current plan still in the cardboard tube in her bag. She needs to show this to Elbert soon, and that would have been the best time had she not pushed all of his buttons.

It's not that the man has poor ideas, from the quick scan she did when the man had opened up his own plans. It seems the fast and messy writing are from him. Ideas that seem long rejected by the previous Gamemaker.

She thinks about it for a second, and before she could get up to chase after the man there's a knock on the door. Her eyes dart from the cardboard tube to the door. She rises up quickly, seemingly bowing as President Nepos walk into her office, a smile on his face with slicked back brown hair.

His aids follow him in, clipboard holding Penelope, with her fiery red hair and scanning green eyes. Then the mysterious Jacob, who holds a carefree smile with hands in his pockets. The two like guard dogs to the king that is Julius Nepos.

"Mrs. Vidia." Julius Nepos exclaims with hands outstretched. "I hope you don't mind us dropping in unannounced, we're here to inspect your current plans of my first ever Games."

"No, no!" She exclaims, she quickly brushes her dark brunette hair out of the way as she takes the cardboard tube from her bag and opens up the blueprint. "Here it is, your excellency."

Julius walks past the chairs in front of her mahogany desk and takes a look at the blueprints. His eyebrows raised at her proposal for the next arena. She doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing, the man is still mysterious to her, and she's grateful for what he has done for her already.

It is then that Penelope and Jacob takes a look too. She can see the younger woman begin to write down on her clipboard, and the younger man whistle as he shakes his head with his tell-tale smirk. He looks at her and then back at the blueprints.

"That's some guts you've got there." He says before turning to Nepos, "I'll get the car started, sir."

With that he leaves without another word. The door doesn't close, but a couple of minutes later she hears the sound of the elevator dinging. She looks from where the man has left into the blue eyes of the president.

"Why have you chosen this particular setting?" He asks, not tone to say it's malicious or anything.

"It's to give _him _a proper send off, and it creates a political standpoint for yourself, sir."

"In what way?"

"It makes you look good, that you're reminiscing of the past." She says cautiously. "I read Capitol tabloids, sir, and there are sceptics out there that you could quell down with this."

"Very good." He says, as he rolls the blueprint up himself and handing it back Theodora. "I'll eagerly await it then."

He takes his leave, a curt nod to her and Penelope, who stays rooted to the ground. She smiles at her, and as the door closes and the two are alone, a solemn silence falls into the office. The sound of the rain battering against the tall windows is the only thing that both the women could hear.

"There is, however, something I would like you to do." She says breaking the silence.

"Is this what the president wants?" She asks, this time with resolve and strength.

Whereas the president could scare her to the bone, his two lackeys has nothing on him. She raises an eyebrow to her, a smirk appearing as the woman flicks through her clipboard, the fiery red hair in a bun, several pens inside it as if it's holding it up.

"No, but it's what would cement his authority over the Capitol as well as the whole of Panem." She says, narrowing her eyes. "You don't want to disappoint our dear leader, do you?"

"It's not something I aim to do, Ms. Deim." She says as she sits down, the urge to light a cigarette crawls from the skin of her hands all the way up to her face. "Well, out with it then!"

"We want you to involve Elbert Korando more," she starts and Theodora scoffs. "Because we have a surprise just for him."

Before she could interject, the red-haired woman should her the clipboard, Theodora scans the writing, and with each word she could feel her skin crawl further. She looks from the clipboard to the woman in front of her, an innocent smile on her face despite what is written on the piece of paper.

"I-I…how?"

"We have our means, Mrs. Vidia." She smiles. "Do we have an agreement?"

"I don't think he'll like that idea." Theodora says as she opens up her blueprints, using a large glass as a paperweight for one corner and her jar of pencils with the other.

"That's why you're to keep that one a secret, but involve him none the same, throw the dog a bone. He's going through so much."

"That is diabolical."

"With that, I'll take my leave." She says. "I do hope this year goes well for you, it is your debut after all, we don't want another repeat of what the previous titleholder now, do we?"

She doesn't dignify that with a response as the woman leaves the room. She's left her in the silence, the soft dinging of the elevator combined with the pitter patter of rain against her windows is the only thing she could hear at that moment of time.

She really needs a cigarette badly.

* * *

The rain stops around eleven at night, and by midnight the skies are clear, stars visible but faded from the lights of the Capitol. She makes her way up on the metal box into their apartment. Her bag and blueprints by her side, her mind rattles and spinning from her early encounter.

She snaps back to reality when the door slides open with a ding of the elevator. Her hand shaking from the cold, or the thinly laid threat from one Penelope Deim, is the only thing she could think of when she makes it to their door.

There's no noise coming from the other side or the plain wooden door. The kids are sleeping now, it is closer to half past midnight. Long hours and overtime are what her family is unfortunately used to now. She takes the key from her long coat pocket and twists it into the lock.

The door opens, silently, as she kicks off her heels. There's a thin light coming from their lounge and she makes her way towards that. Her heart sinks as she sees her husband, reading a book surrounded by their two kids: Einar and Charity.

The sound she's making makes her husband, Tobias, turns around. He smiles softly as he pries himself from the two sleeping kids. He puts a finger to his lips, and she nods with a smile of her own as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Hey," he says once they're both in the kitchen, a kiss to her lips firstly. "How was work?"

"Stressful, the president dropped in unannounced nd not at the time we had agreed last week." She says as she raids the fridge for some food. "He liked my ideas though."

"That's good."

He helps her with food, as he takes some of the leftover roast chicken underneath some aluminium foil and heats it up in the microwave. She's useless in the kitchen, only knowing how to open the wine bottle and pouring it. She stands beside her husband as she lay her head on his shoulder, he does the same as he lay his on her head.

"How are the kids?" She asks softly as they stare at the appliance heating up her food.

"Good, Einar is getting really big, I suspect he'll be in that rebellious teenager phase soon, and Charity is much like the same angel the day she made her entry to the world."

They laugh together, softly and comfortably. She loves spending time in her own home, away from the stress of the moniker of Head Gamemaker. Just to be at home, to be called a wife and a mother and not some official name that rarely means anything these days.

Her husband works at home, some form of business start-up and therefore picks up the pieces of her tirades and tantrums, along with the kids'. He's the problem solver and has always been ever since the day they met.

She smiles comfortably as the loud beeping of the appliance resounds in their ears. They just stare into space, head resting against each other. In this moment she's at peace, the calm waves over her much. The space relaxes her, before she has to be awake at seven in the morning to start it all over again.

"I love you." She says so casually, her hands snake its way to his hands and grips it tightly. "Like really, really love you."

Her husband chuckles. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"Say it back…please." She says, tears threatening to fall.

"I love you too." He turns to her and kisses her forehead. "As long as I'm here, you're fine."

"Thank you."

* * *

**A/N - Well, that's the second to last prologue (hopefully). I've been meaning to hold one for Theodora for a while now, but just couldn't decided on how I would go about it. I want her to be that ruthless Gamemaker, so much more different from the soft and kind-hearted Rexton Price. There's definitely some ways she could go from here.**

**So what do you think of her? She has more at stake than Elbert. She has kids and a loving home. She keeps her work and personal life so separate that she might as well be two different people.**

**Now, I'm still in need of 7 more tributes.**

**Namely, D10F, but also the ones listed on my profile are up for grabs atm. I'll not accept anyone until the official deadline of 30th of April, or until I get full submissions for all the tributes.**

**PM me if you have questions! Let me know what you think of this prologue! The next one would be victors from D7-D12. Look forward to it!**

**~Alec**


	5. An Invitation, Part Two

_"The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die." _  
_~Juliette Lewis_

* * *

_**Gideon Clerwood  
Victor of the Fourteenth Hunger Games  
District Seven; Outskirts of Seven**_

* * *

The song birds sing every day in Seven never ceases to amaze him. It's soothing, in a way, that they're lives can be so carefree despite the world around them. The birdsong calms him along with the sound of the trickling stream of water.

He sits by the bank of the river, the comfortable grassy bank is where he likes to spend most of his days in recent years, instead of being holed up in his own home back in the Victor's Village. Sure, he could spend time with his wife, but sometimes it's fun to get away from it all.

Gideon enjoys the serene and calmness of the breeze that passes him by, enveloping him in pure peace. A sigh escapes his lips as he goes to lie down. He stares up at the canopies, the branches of tall trees covering the sky, only letting a few lights from various cracks.

Although the leafy ceiling, nor the peaceful birdsongs or relaxing river waters isn't going to stop the world from turning, as much as Gideon wants it to. The Hunger Games is fast approaching and that's soon going to stop this scenery he's come to love so much.

He wants to stay here, forever, without a care in the world much like the birds. The week will be over and the Reapings will start, however, so with a not so content sigh leaving his mouth, he gets up and goes towards his home in the village.

The walk is silent, save for his brown leather boots crunching the detritus of the forest, his mind buzzing with the upcoming Games and the tributes he might have to mentor. His normal morning routine almost always finishes with him stopping by Thomas Trellia's home, his former mentor and now co-victor.

The man has become unkempt in the later years of his life, or more so in recent years. His drunken state and constant vacant episodes when mentoring his tributes had upset Gideon in recent times, to the point where he mentored last years tributes together, despite them not surviving very long come the Bloodbath.

The minute he opens the door to the victor's home, the stench of alcohol and smoke enters his nostrils. His dark brown eyes scan the hallway, discarded clothes and empty bottles are strewn all over the oaken floors; dimly lit by the morning's sunlight through windows.

Gideon couldn't help but roll his eyes as he follows the trail of mess into the kitchen, the sunlight perfectly illuminating the half-naked body of Thomas Trellia, a pool of his own vomit by his mouth. Another sigh escapes Gideon's lips as he goes over to the man, picks him up with some strength.

He drags him towards the bathroom, kicking clothes and bottles on the way to the white bathroom. He pushes the drunken man onto the bathtub and took the shower head, pointed it straight towards the man, turning the vial from hot towards cold before blasting him with water.

The victor floundered like a fish out of water, him shouting as the water hits his bare skin, Gideon continues his onslaught and only stops when he sees that Thomas is struggling. The older victor looks at him with cloudy green eyes, eyebrows in shock before joining together in a furrow.

"Gideon?" Thomas looks at him incredulously before standing up, water dripping from him. "What the fuck!?"

"It's time you got a proper wake up call," Gideon says, but he's shoved away by the man, he follows him. "And not smoke and drink twenty-four hours seven days a week!"

They go into the living room, a shaky hand from the older victor goes to pick up a shirt from the floor and puts it on, he finds a near empty bottle on the coffee table and swigs it. Gideon could not believe his eyes, he takes the bottle away from him.

"What gives you the right to tell me what to do?" Thomas angrily asks.

"I want to look out for you." He only replies and all he gets is a scoff back.

"Well I don't need your help."

"I can't keep doing this anymore." He says to him. "Not by myself, Tom, it's hard enough looking after two children, I don't want to look out for you too."

"You don't need to, kid." He says, despite Gideon already being in his thirties.

Gideon looks at him, a sadness on his face as he watches his mentor try to kill himself slowly with poison and smoke. He scrunches his hands together, he didn't want to say anything else as he leaves the room and then his home.

There's nothing more that could be done now. He's tried so many times in so many years to help him, and nothing is helping Gideon. All he could do now is present a front towards the Capitol, he didn't even mention the invitation by the president.

What could possibly go wrong from that?

* * *

_**Esme Tripoline  
Victor of the Twenty-second Hunger Games  
District Eight; Victor's Village**_

* * *

She likes waking up like this, the sounds of birds by her windowsill, the sliver of light peeking through the velvet curtains, the soft rhythmic sounds of the person she loves the most by her side. Her eyes are closed and she smiles listening to everything.

Her brown eyes slowly open, the resting body of her soon to be husband, Armin Sericus, sleeps soundly beside her. His ruffled blond hair looks heavenly under the small bit of light hitting it. the warmth of his skin radiates towards her, enveloping her in comforting feeling.

However, that feeling isn't tangible no matter how much she tries to hold on to it, this very moment, she'll never collect it and but it in a jar. What is tangible and very real is the letter she received only a few days ago.

The letter that is currently locked away in an ornate box amongst other fan letters, hidden in one of her drawers in the desk by the corner. She looks at it with a small fear in her eyes before looking away, and instead fixes her gaze towards Armin once more.

Her tanned hands softly caress the golden hair, down to his face. She smiles gently, feeling the warmth from his skin. She never wants him to disappear again, not after saying goodbye six years ago, only to find herself victorious.

Esme and Armin soon found themselves together again, with a promise that they should never be apart despite circumstances. They make themselves work, with her being gone for a month or so every year.

Armin has been very amenable to the whole victor thing. He has to be if he would like to keep a relationship with Esme. She strokes his hair a few more times before getting up from the bed, the soft sheets drop underneath her and onto the carpeted floor.

She traipses along the floor, her feet gliding across like she's a swan on water. She makes her way towards the desk, pulls out the drawer and opens the very same ornate box she promised herself would never open since the day she got the letter.

There are days in which she would like to stay in that warmth forever, where she can stay like that; tangled in sheets with her lover, and not be whisked away every year to be paraded as a piece of meat in front of wolves.

Now she's about to be thrusted into the thick of it. Invited by the man that eludes her even from the get go. The mysterious man is very enigmatic in nature, she can't pinpoint what it is about it, but every time she sees him there's a knot in her stomach that seems to go tighter and tighter.

She wishes to never meet the man, but here she is getting ready for the next instalment of the death games, and there's a part of her that never wants to leave the house she's in despite everyone and everything pulling her towards the gleaming light of the Capitol.

* * *

_**Salvia Korovai  
Victor of the Twenty-seventh Hunger Games  
District Nine; Fields of Nine**_

* * *

As the most recent victor of the Hunger Games, Salvia Korovai, stares afraid of what's to come next. Her family is there for her, yes, but they don't experience the same thing she experiences since coming back from the Capitol six months ago.

The terrifying sounds at night, the vivid dreams of each person she had killed in the arena. The bloody sickle and dagger in her hands, the stain of red never going away no matter how much she scrubs hard.

She remembers the wise words imparted by her now co-mentor in the upcoming Games, Adaly. That it never gets any better, advice that she should let things happen as it should be. However, she doesn't feel it should be like that at all.

She frowns as she makes her way through the fields of gold in the district. The distinct mark of her district, yellow grains dance to and from like waves in an ocean. The wind billows her white dress, her light brown skin glisten and sheen with perspiration from the warm sun.

The moments of lucidness from Adlay is what Salvia cling to. Her last moments before the Games started she listened very well to his advice, before the man had drunk himself until he passed out. She succeeded in doing so, not only with his advice but with the intuition and cleverness that she developed over the years.

Her eyes fixate on the horizon, a small hill amongst the wheat fields. That is her current destination, the last place she was before being whisked away to the Capitol to fight in some barbaric form of entertainment. The last moments of innocence in her eyes until the Capitol ripped it all apart and taints her red and rotten.

She closes light brown eyes as she stops walking for a moment remembering another memory of the Games, the blood dripping from her dagger as she stabs the Six girl to death. She didn't even know her name then, not until the Victory Tour, but by then it's too late to apologise, too late to atone for what she had done.

She continues to press on. The more she gets closer to her destination the more memories pop up, causing her to relive them one by one. It comes in waves, much like the way the oats and wheats dance with the wind.

She releases a breath she didn't know she holds, into the air and begins to think of happier thoughts. Back to the golden fields; her loving family. Baking bread and visiting friends. She looks around once more, and seeing the yellow fields go on and on melts her anxiety as she fleetingly disappears into happiness once more. The yellow evoking some form of comfort to her that just makes her happier.

She defeats whatever is plaguing her mind at that moment and presses on. She wants to visit this hill every year, before she leaves for the Games, to mentor tributes and be somewhat useful to them all. She doesn't want to be a wreck like Adlay.

She wants to make a difference.

However, as the first person to ever be so up close to the new president, Julius Nepos, she doesn't get the feeling that making a difference is going to help her and her district. Now, she's back to negative emotions once more, this time fear of what this man is capable of doing.

She knows nothing about him, and that's what scares her the most, the fear of the unknown. She's scared of meeting him once more, but what worries her more is the fact that he'll have to meet Adlay Durum, hopefully at his best; if not his worst.

Adlay, to her, has not had the best of times when interacting with people, especially those of the Capitol public; fights and arguments tend to erupt when he's around. She learns this from observing him last year, with his constant arguments towards the escort the minute they step on the train.

Whatever it is that's bothering Adlay, that's what Salvia is going to have to fix. She's going to buckle in and make it her life mission to try and keep the unruly man in line. She doesn't want to paint her district in a different colour than it already is.

She wants to keep it as yellow as it can be for years and years to come, and not be tainted by red.

* * *

_**Rooster McCoy  
Victor of the Thirteenth Hunger Games  
District Ten; Cemetery of the Fallen**_

* * *

It was in the late afternoon when the clouds begin to darken, and the sky changes from a sunny disposition to one of drab and grey in colour. The market stalls would be finishing early in anticipation of rain.

That's where he finds her, Maybelle Davis, sitting amongst the slabs of grey granite. A white dress hung on her shoulders like a ghost. The Cemetery of the Fallen is where he finds her these days, always without a doubt, especially before and after the Hunger Games.

Rooster never understood why his fellow victor could not let go of the tributes they mentor. It's easier if they could just learn to let go instead of dwelling in the abyss. He sighs as he makes his way towards the young woman.

His feet pass by gravestones, some cracked from the relentless rain and dust storms that Ten is used to, others pristine and neat, others completely forgotten about. He recognises a few names, here and there, but making the connection to when they had died Rooster could possibly not know.

Leather boots stop by a patch of grass beside the white dressed victor. There's a smile on her face, even though the atmosphere screams of sombre, her face is solemn, as if she's at peace. There's no breeze, not yet. He crouches beside her; an exasperated breath leaves him as he eventually sits beside her.

"You know that you'll be bad at hide and seek if this is always the first place you go to for hiding?"

She smiles slightly as she looks at Rooster; green eyes meeting with faded a grey blue. "Who says I was ever hiding?"

"I don't get it." He starts as he looks at the gravestones in front of them, last year's tributes in front of them. "Why hold on? Why cling to them that much longer than needed to be?"

"I don't ever want to forget them," she starts, a slight frown forming now. "I want to let their memories live on, make people remember they're still here and not forgotten."

The way she fixes the wreath on both of their gravestones solidifies her statement. Rooster just shakes his head, he'll never understand her in this regards. Horror from the Games and how to deal with those he can help with, but something like this? He's at a standstill.

Afterall, he finds it easier each year to let go faster, the tribute's faces fade a little bit easier from him. The memory of even talking to them goes by that bit faster, their faces blurring swiftly. It seems it's having an opposite effect on his fellow victor.

"You know there is life after the Games?" He says as he lays on the dying patch of grass.

"How's that treating you?" She asks as she lays beside him. "How's the ranch?"

"Going great, Bertha, my only cow is pregnant. I have several chickens that I can't even name anymore. The bulls are fine too."

Opening the ranch was something Rooster have always wanted to do ever since Maybelle came out as a victor. He found it therapeutic handling animals, more so than humans. He's only ever comfortable talking to the animals than he is with people these days, another difference between him and Maybelle.

"What about you?" He asks her. "Found the man, or woman, of your dreams yet?"

"Not yet," she says and she closes her eyes. "It's not like I'm looking for one anyway."

"The right man will come along."

"Thanks, big bro."

They laugh for a few minutes, the grey clouds and impending call of rain not bothering them at all. Maybelle seems like herself some days, and that's what Rooster tries to bring out more often, not this person that dwell in her inner darkness. However, a question always arises in his head.

"Why do you always spend you days here?" He asks out loud, not caring if he gets an answer or not.

"Because, I feel like I've wasted their time giving them useless advice in the arena, so it's only fair to waste my time here."

* * *

_**Bergamot Musambi  
Victor of the Tenth Hunger Games  
District Eleven; Streets of Eleven**_

* * *

The day is finishing, the dusk is fast approaching. The heat he's feeling is slowly cooling off from his body. He makes his way from the orchard back to his home, where he can help his aging mother cook dinner for his siblings.

Out of all the victors, Bergamot thinks he's done more for its citizens than his other fellow victors spanning the whole of the twelve districts. He never voices it out loudly though, just a thought is enough to keep.

He likes to help out the district as much as he can, either to pay them back, even though the district owes him nothing. Be it helping elderly ladies with carrying their goods, building ladders for orchards; anything.

He's been revered as not only a victor but a local hero too. People respect him and are always eager to ask for his help. That's what powers Bergamot. He thinks that helping out in this way is enough for not bringing home another victor.

There are times that people speculate if the Games have affected him at all, what with his stoic attitude and friendly aura. There's nothing that you can hide from Eleven citizens. People talk and the word gets around faster than anything. Communities are tight knit here in Eleven, and no one ever blames tributes being killed in the Capitol, except for maybe the president himself.

However, that's not the case.

If people ever find out what Bergamot really thinks about himself, then they would display the same pity as those victors that come out broken and completely different from what they were before coming into the Games.

He suffers from the nightmares that is common amongst victors, him helping the district is a way to distract himself from the horrors of the arena, so much so that he avoids going into the Capitol unless it's absolutely necessary.

The orchard he's fine with, under the cover of the fruit bearing canopies of the trees he can deal with. It's the forest outside the fence terrifies him to the core, the screams they could hold, the fact that you can die there and not ever be found until the last flesh of your body leaves your bones.

The dark scares him too, his room is always lit by some form of lamp or candle whenever he retires for the night. Shutting the curtains in case of intruders. The Hunger Games is the cause of his intense paranoia at times, failing to meet up with Capitol doctors, either by refusal or commitment.

So, the Hunger Games loom closer once more, the fears creeping up again that his tributes will die again, like they did the previous years. Eighteen years have passed since his victory and he's yet to bring home a victor.

The distraught of his district year after year is what saddens him, and yet they do not blame him at all. He comes home every year with the same adoration that his fellow Elven citizens held before he left for the Capitol. What scares him is that the next time he comes home, that same adoration would vanish, replacing respect for vitriol.

Maybe they'll react differently now that there's a new president in the mix, he cares not for him, so long as he is left alone. This invitation, however, is not something he appreciates. He like to leave the Capitol as fast as possible, so that he doesn't' get caught in the spider web that is the Capitol.

* * *

_**Thorium Cole  
Victor of the Twenty-fifth Hunger Games  
District Twelve; Victor's Village**_

* * *

In the depths of his home, under cover from the sun and the whole of Panem is Thorium Cole. He hides amongst the basement, partly to get away from the world after his Games and partly because of the fear that Twelve will kill him; more often it's because he finds it safe down below.

He's fixated on finding his father, Orestes Cole, disappeared after the First Quarter Quell. Declared missing by the Capitol officials. He attests it to the fact that Twelve hates their bloodline, along with the Iscariots.

Being from the now extinct District Thirteen does not help their matters, the district that kickstarted the revolution that devolved into warfare. When he came home a victor from the Games, he wasn't hailed a hero but an enemy.

The president at the time, President Augustus, could not believe that a Cole would ever hold the title of victor that he rescinded the spoils the victor's district would get when they emerged the winner, but he got the rewards.

Augustus found a loop hole that since his original district is Thirteen, which no longer exists, then the spoils of his win will go directly to the Capitol. This, if you can imagine, caused widescale outrage in Twelve, and ostracised him.

Although he suspects that is has been going on ever since he was voted in by the citizens of Twelve. He looks amongst the pages that litter his desk, and onto the corkboard on the wall directly in front of him. The light from the lamp is the only thing illuminating his view.

The sounds of radio frequency he could hear also, from the other side of the room. Endless cups and mugs of coffee litter the floors of his basement. He's converted it into some bunker in case the Twelve citizens ever get fed up and decide to storm his home.

He can protect himself, at least for the first few attacks before he's overwhelmed. He's not caring about that, however, as he circles clues and whatever from newspapers. The static from the radio resounds voices, nothing that he recognises.

He's all alone now, no friends or family to call upon. His sister reaped during the Games after his, although that's another thing he thinks is not entirely up to chance. He _knows _that his sister was picked for the Twenty-sixth Hunger Games, as a way to punish him directly.

So, as Thorium spends most of his days locked away in his home, nothing but the company of radio static in his mind, he looks for his father, maybe because he misses the man or maybe it's to enact revenge on the Capitol, and the whole of Panem for doing the Cole Clan wrong.

He'll think about it when the right time presents itself.

* * *

**A/N - And with that, the prologues are finished! What do you think of these set of victors? I think as you travel from District One all the way to District Twelve, the level of fame stays the same but the victors dramatically change.**

**Will Gideon succeed in sobering Thomas up? Is Esme going to ever find that peace? What will Salvia do now that she's the latest victor? How do you feel about Rooster's lack of sincerity towards his tributes? Will Bergamot ever rid himself of the demons haunting him? What do you think of Thorium's past?**

**I have accepted all 24 tributes! Look forward to the next chapter, here is the list of tributes and submitters:**

_**District One**_

**Carnelian Wolfe, D1M, 18 - _ 20_  
Velvet Eclatant, D1F, 18 - _the consulting marauder_**

_**District Two**_

**Antonio Barracks, D2M, 18 - _IciclePower33_  
Diana Grey, D2F, 18 - _Gryffne_**

_**District Three**_

**Zhi Penn Lu, D3M, 16 - _curiousclove_  
Mari Caresse katou, D3F, 15 - _curiousclove_**

_**District Four**_

**Merrick Riviera, D4M, 15 - _tyquavis_  
Lily Mendoza, D4F, 17 - _SparrowBirdEliza_**

_**District Five**_

**Shade Grimoire, D5M, 18 - _LordShiro_  
Kenna St. Clair, D5F, 18 - _LiveFreeOrDie_**

_**District Six**_

**Cyrus Sunbeam, D6M, 15 - _the consulting marauder_  
Chevelle Wheeler, D6F, 16 - _SailBoat21_**

_**District Seven**_

**Ander Bayleaf, D7M, 12 - _My-Mental-Mind_  
Magdalene Juniper, D7F, 16 - **_**DefoNotAFangirl**_

_**District Eight**_

**Lonan Baze, D8M, 15 - _S.H. Reke_  
Francesca Appiani, D8F, 18 - _Elements08_**

_**District Nine**_

**Rye Durum, D9M, 16 - _Zacksteel_  
Avena Garner, D9F, 16 - **

_**District Ten**_

**Gharial Rivers, D10M, 18 -  
Bailey Tauros, D10F, 12 - _DefoNotAFangirl_**

_**District Eleven**_

**Klayton Barker, D11M, 14 - _tyquavis_  
Ashley Allspicer, D11F, 15 - _AlexFalTon_**

_**District Twelve**_

**Albin Cimber, D12M, 17 - _tyquavis_  
Tey Antracit, D12F, 15 - _Guesttwelve_**

**There's a blog now too: **

** : / / alecxis15 . wixsitecom28thhgdofg**

**_Next Chapter due out soon-ish_**


	6. Chapter 1: Dead Boys

_"We close our eyes  
Learn our pain  
Nobody ever could explain  
All dead boys in our hometown"  
~ Dead Boys by Sam Fender_

* * *

_**Albin Cimber, 17, District Twelve**_

* * *

It's late afternoon, the sun slowly dipping way behind the mountains making room for the moon to take over, although that's not going to happen anytime soon. The smell of smoke mixed with sweat circulate the old bar, adding to its mustiness.

Old patrons mingle amongst the new, as the workers from the mines trudge in, with their hardhats and pickaxes waiting for their daily pint of Twelve's finest ale.

The Cimber bar appears to be in full swing, waiters and waitresses holding onto pitchers of drinks walk around the large space, walking on sticky dark carpet, covered in mud and coal; and whatever else these patrons' step on and bring to the bar.

Albin Cimber stand behind the bar counter, polishing some glasses, keeping to himself. The quiet demeanour cleaning the counter tops and polishing glasses making him blend in with the furniture, not wanting to make himself known.

His dark hair and brilliant blue eyes fit in amongst most of the patrons, unlike when he leaves the bar itself. His appearance sometimes mocked by those in his social circle. Blonde hair; green eyes. These are the norm around the Merchant side of Twelve, but with his Seam like appearance, despite growing up amongst the Merchant population, he's mocked by his peers.

It's why he spends most of his time at the family bar, trying to get away from it all. Although a few years of bullying has led to his emotions being heavily masked, he no longer acts accordingly, learning to mask away certain feelings in fear of repercussions.

That's why he's here, amongst the patrons, mainly miners from the coal mines, but the occasional Merchant populace would wander in, a disgust on their face more than half the time. It didn't bother his father, Tullius, so it doesn't bother Albin too much either.

"Did you hear?" A man two seats down from the bar suddenly speaks to the man beside him.

"What?"

"'nother suicide by Mine Ten, a Seam kid, no less."

The miners had their hats on the clean counter tops, black coal dust make their way on the polished mahogany tops that bothers him slightly, but not enough for him to tell them off. Besides the topic of conversation has piqued his interest slightly.

"Guess he couldn't live anymore knowing the Hunger Games are still well and truly here."

They toast the unnamed poor kid; Albin's curiosity dies down a little bit as he listens to more news and rumours circulating with the chattering of the miners. He rarely goes outside anymore, only holding himself upstairs in his own room.

The rare time he does come outside is when he's with his friends, aware of his surroundings. People describe his skin as pale, no wonder as he spends the majority of his time indoors. The topic amongst the patrons shift slightly to the Hunger Games, with the Reapings being a day away, it's no wonder some of them are worried.

For most, it's not themselves they're worried about but for their sons or their daughters. The Capitol's grasp has only extended with the new president. People are scared even more of what's to come, considering the disaster that was the First Quarter Quell, Twelve has not had an easy time since then.

"What's with the frowny face, man?"

His eyes snap from staring into space to the blonde-haired mischievous grin of his best friend, Ian Rockett. There's not much of a reaction from Albin, but he knows that his friend is always joking around with him, despite his cold demeanour.

"You know that my face naturally forms a frown, right?" He replies and Ian laughs in return.

"A perpetual frowny face," he says. "Poor you."

He opens the hatch of the bar and walk in to stand beside Albin, their slim builds matching each other. The white button up shirt and black bowtie make them look like siblings when in fact it's just their uniform, both wear an apron around their waste with two pockets.

"Leave him be, won't you?" Asha, their other friend, stops by the bar. "Albin, a cool soda, please."

Albin gets to work as Ian rolls his eyes, it's hard to say no to Asha, but both Albin and Ian are kept in place by her. Her hazel gaze fixes both of them to their shoes, and she's far more mature than anyone could ever be.

"The Reapings are tomorrow, huh?" Ian suddenly says amongst the hustle and bustle; the patrons are lining up again for their drinks.

"What about it?" Asha asks as she watches the both of them work the bar by themselves.

"To think that it's mine and Albin's second last year at the chopping block." He nudges the dark-haired boy, who only rolls his eyes as he hands another pint at a customer.

"Aren't you scared that you get picked at the last minute?" She asks before taking a sip of the brown fizzy drink.

"Nope," Ian says with a loud pop of his lips. "Besides, some Seam kid will probably get picked over us two anyway. The last Merchant kid that got picked was Thorium Cole, and well he's never really from here, is he? Or so I heard."

"That's a terrible way to think." Asha frowns.

"It's true though, right Albin?"

The boy just shrugs as he continues to serve the customers. He keeps to himself once more, even amongst his friends, he doesn't care much for the outcome. All her cares about is that it's not his time to be reaped, that's what he thinks so anyway.

* * *

_**Lonan Baze, 15, District Eight**_

* * *

He spends most of his days in the office, not his office, but the one of his boss' Nadine Tweed. District Eight has very few places where an office space can exist, and so Nadine Tweed's office is situated on top of her fabric store back in Eight.

It's a day before the Reapings, the hot summer temperature rising, being trapped under the dark smoky clouds from the factories that litter Eight. Yet, he still wears the uniform, long sleeve black shirt and grey trousers.

A tweed jacket would be on him too, but even that's too much for this heat. The room fan only circulates the hot air even more than it needs to, only bring a short gust of cold wind before being taken over by the warmth once more.

"I don't get why you're so insistent on coming here of all days." She says as she fans herself with a folding fan.

"I like it here, and I like talking with you." Lonan replies back with a smile, sweat pouring from his dark blonde curls onto his forehead.

It's true that the older lady, despite being in her late sixties, has a lot in common with Lonan, you can't help but wonder why such a duo could ever exist. Perhaps it's the youthful energy that Nadine possess that attracts Lonan to her like a moth to a flame; or maybe it's the longing of having a child that Nadine never got a chance to have that doesn't turn him away. Regardless, both are symbiotic of one another.

"I do appreciate you, Lonan, but you're young, there are kids your age that you can play with on your day off."

"What kids?" He laughs. "Half of the kids in this wretched district are orphans and are part of some sort of gang, the other are too rich to even interact with the likes of me."

"Where does that put you?"

"The comfortable middle." He grins and he could see Nadine roll her eyes as she continues to fan herself.

It's true that he's probably on the fence, like a handful of children in Eight. His papa and mother met at the same factory they still work in together today, they make ends meet. Comfortable enough to survive each day, but not comfortable enough that they can eat three square meals.

That's how he's here, a day before the Reapings for the Hunger Games working, or hardly working, in the little fabric shop. It sees many uses, either exporting small fabrics to other clothing factories or getting the odd order from other districts, even some to the Capitol once in a blue moon.

During the period of him starting here, all but two years ago, he's developed his social skills immensely; being able to barter with the retailers to take his cloths at more than the asking price. His charm as a kid, as well as how articulate he could be at times, sell these fabrics.

His father, John, helped with such skills too, from a very young age. He's taught the boy skills in persuading the consumer, complementing them, saying what they want to hear. All those have helped made Madame Tweed's shop thrive under the crippling Eight smoke.

"You lost in thought there?" Nadine snaps him from his thinking, staring out at the window.

"Hm?" He looks away from the window to the woman.

"Okay, that's it, Lonan get out of here." She says pointing at the door with a smile on her face. "You need to spend time with kids your age."

"I don't have much friends." Lonan replies getting up from the windowsill and heading for the door.

"Then spend it alone, anywhere but here." She says laughing. "It's such a waste seeing someone so youthful waste their time here, gathering dust with me."

He's about to retort but the woman stops her. "If you're hellbent on arguing back to me all the time, why don't you spend the time with your debate team again?"

He scoffs as he walks out the door, taking his bag with him, not even replying to her suggestion. The summer heat hits him hard, making it harder to breathe already, he shoves his sweaty hands in his pockets making his way back to his home.

He has no interest in going to the debate club today, getting into heated arguments are his specialty, but combined with the current heat, he doesn't think he'll last that long debating whatever topic is at hand.

Although Nadine has dismissed him for the day, he'll be back later tonight to unpack deliveries. It'll be cooler then too, maybe he'll be able to think straight. Even though Nadine probably meant for him to stay away the whole day, he'll not follow.

No can argue better than him, it seems.

* * *

_**Carnelian Wolfe, 18, District One**_

* * *

There's nothing more comforting to him than spending time with his mother and aunt. Carnelian sits by the wall in the tiled basement of the morgue that both the older women worked in. They're currently dissecting into a body, measuring vital organs; liver, stomach, heart and the brain. One of them saying the weight, whilst the other writes it down.

"So that's three pounds on the brain, dear." His aunt, Almandine, tells his mother. "A healthy weight, such a poor young man."

The boy on the silver metal table, all white and drained of blood, naked as the day he was born, lay still, eyes closed, totally unaware of the things coming in and out of his body. He couldn't help but glance at the way his aunt looks wistfully from the body to her sister.

"Carnelian, darling?" His mother snaps him from his gaze to look at her, wearing bright pink gloves, blood and visceral parts clinging to them and her equally pink apron. "You were saying about your father?"

"He's still wanting me to take over the business, even after I got picked to go the Hunger Games." Carnelian sighs as he moves closer to the table.

Death or rather dead bodies don't scare him that much anymore. Spending most of his time here at the district morgue hiding from his father truly helped in that regard. He sighs, as his gaze lands on the boy's face; angelic even in death.

He couldn't quite remember his name, but he knew him from Beacon. It's a sad matter, someone finding him in the early morning dead by the marble, glistening steps of Beacon. Another casualty to the strict rules, or extreme jealousy.

He was one of the choices to be the volunteer this year, but Carnelian was more in favour. He belonged to a Lesser House, whereas he didn't think this boy did; and under Balas' reign over his academy, named houses get priority over volunteering.

The cuts around the boy's arm, suggest that he bled out on the steps after cutting himself. Not much else he could surmise from that as he tunes out his mother's attempts at calling out her now ex-husband.

He takes one last look before his mind travels a bit more. Although the boy on the metallic table envied him for taking his prize at glory, Carnelian envies him for escaping this world. He longs, sometimes, to escape the world; to be able to transcend to a higher form of existence where he's away from everything and everyone.

Away from his father and his constant nagging and teaching on how to run the family business once he passes on. The sigh escaping his lips some more as he thinks about why he's here, when Beacon has announced that the school would be shut today due to the circumstances, and not at his father's house where he can cram more knowledge down him again.

Too bad the world has bigger things for him, not letting him escape such a life. Heir to the famous Wolfe Company, making bathroom products such as soaps and gels, all luxury brands that some famous Capitol celebrities even endorse; as well as the chosen volunteer for the Hunger Games.

There's a lot at stake for him, pressure to perform and succeed. His father has great visions of a victor taking over his company, which could only catapult their popularity and their class. If he wins the next Hunger Games and succeed his father then his life will be set. However, Carnelian doesn't want that.

"You look lost in thought, dear." His mother says with a frown and a look of sadness.

"It's nothing," he says as he looks from her to his aunt.

His aunt smiles back at her, although he knows that she's just hiding behind that smile. Her light blue eyes avoid his own. She's still pretty shaken up about last month, having lost her first baby. She can use as much makeup as she could, but it'll never hide it from Carnelian.

"Darling, aren't you late for something?" She reminds him. "You've been so lost in your own thoughts that you've forgotten about a certain someone."

His eyes widen as he scampers away, kissing his mother on the cheek before climbing up the stairs and out the funeral home. His thoughts run as fast as he could, to the pale white body on that silver table to his father, and finally his aunt.

His feet take him to the local theatre of the district, the late afternoon sun painting the white building a light orange colour. He enters it quietly, making sure the music playing in the background masks his heavy footsteps, despite the red carpet softening the sound.

The dance recital is already underway, Jet St. Claire, tuts when he takes the seat beside the boy. "Late as always, Wolfe."

"I've had a lot on my mind." He whispers to him as their eyes stare at the beautiful girl on the stage.

Dazzle Lightburn flits across the stage for her solo performance. A few early clapping from her fans doesn't even faze her as she glides like a swan on water. He's in awe of her grace, performing elegantly. Perfectly poise and graceful commanding attention to her, and only her; even the spotlight follows her instead of the other way around.

In that moment his thoughts turn suddenly sour, he's jealous of what Dazzle has. The freedom to be so carefree and only follow her true passion, he wants that more than anything; to rid of all responsibilities, but as he repeats in his mind.

_The world has other plans for you._

* * *

_**Gharial Rivers, 18, District Ten**_

* * *

He makes his way home again, to the furthest reaches of Ten, underneath a warm summer sun as the clocks turn towards noon. His sweat drips from his face to the dirt underneath his shoes. He swears he could see it evaporate, but his eyes are a bit blurry from his minor incident.

His face is once again painted in bruises, fresh dark purple cover parts of his face, underneath his left eye. Blood, now dried up, block his right nostril from when his assailant had hit him with a sucker punch.

He limps home, although his limp is not from that incident. He's trying to think about the events leading up to him returning home with a fresh set of bruises, which the last set he only got rid of a few weeks back. He could feel his lips begin to swell slightly too, something that he doesn't care for much either.

Gharial Rivers has never been one to live a peaceful life, or so it seems. He went into the central district, a mere half hour to go the centre and another half hour to come back by foot. It's really developed his way stamina quite a bit.

All he had wanted to do is to pick up the supplies that his father had ordered a few days ago, the very same supplies that he still does not have with him, but the girl around his age behind the counter begins to flirt with him and before he knew it he's fighting some guy because he thought he was flirting with her back; to which he was not.

So here he is, as he approaches the family home, the quiet resolute voice in him saying he still won the fight, but at what cost? He still didn't get the food supplies for the farm the family runs. Speaking off, he can spot dirt ground turn into a verdant green.

An oasis on the outskirts of Ten. The water pits in the farm water and nourish the grass that grows around it, producing trees just outside the fences that hold a peculiar set of animals. He walks onto the grassy fields, he could see the flash of green and brown already. The alligators are out in the sun, warming themselves up by the rocks.

They look hungry, and for that he apologises to them as he passes the water pits. The Rivers family own the only reptile farm in the history of Ten, their main produce being authentic reptile hide, used by the Capitol as fashion.

The meat too is used often as part of being somewhat 'exotic'. Gharial doesn't quite understand it, as he hobbles up the steps into the house. The door creaks open, breaking the silence as his brother, who is conveniently sitting on the couch, turns to look at him. Once he sees the bruises, which Gharial tries to hideaway, he grins.

"Looks like you can't be trusted with getting supplies anymore, huh?" He shakes his head.

"Yeah, yeah." He feigns laughter between the pain. "This is why you're in charge of getting the supplies."

"Right." He says standing up. "I'll get right on it."

As soon as his brother exits the house he could hear his father come in from the back door. He shouts for his brother, Caiman, but when there's no answer and he see Gharial instead he exclaims and rushes towards his eldest son.

"Gharial! What happened this time."

"Nothing, Pa." He tries to look away but his dad makes Gharial face him.

"I'm really worried about this constant fights you're getting into."

"None of it is my fault, you know that." He says as he shakes his dad's hold on him.

He could hear his father's resigned sigh. Gharial excuses himself and makes his way up the stairs and into the comfort of his own room. Maybe he should have stopped by the kitchen first and take an ice to his entire face, but right now all he wants is to rest.

"I'll return one of these days with no bruises." He says to his dad.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, son." His dad finally smiles at him.

As he closes the door to his room, there's an inkling of thought that appears in his mind. The fact that the Reapings are tomorrow totally slips his mind. He doesn't quite know what it brings, but he feels an ominous feeling in his stomach.

Tomorrow will be his last Reaping, and then he's free to do what he wants; and what he really wants is to study in higher education. To not be bound by the family's reptile plan forever. He doesn't quite know how to tell his father yet.

For now he'll think about what to say to him as he lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling until sleep takes over him for a while.

* * *

**A/N - Well hello! An update!**

**Welcome to the official first chapter of Delusions of Grandeur! It's a more male centric one. The song _Dead Boys _by Sam Fender have been stuck on my head for ages writing this one. Listen to his songs, most of them pertain to his life and what he could see around it. It's very Hunger Games-esque in a way, talking about poverty and political stuff.**

**Anyway, what do you think of these 4 young men, unsuspecting that their lives will be changed sooner than later? A Chart would be nice too. Are they what you expected from their strengths/weaknesses?**

**I had this one typed out last week, and I now need to plan the next chapter, titled _Foolish Girls_, which is a female centric pre-reapings chapter. It will be followed with two reaping/goodbye chapters and then two train chapters. That should be one each Pov for the tributes.**

**Then it's the pre-games stuff!**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter!**

**~Alec**


	7. Chapter 2: Foolish Girls

_"I hope she'll be a fool - that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful fool."  
~ Daisy Buchanan, The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

_**Diana Grey, 18, District Two**_

* * *

The Nut, a large infrastructure built after the Dark Days, a tall menacing building, built on the side of a mountain. Tasked with training Peacekeepers that maintain order throughout the whole of Panem. The headquarters overlook all the villages in the district; and it continues to grow every year.

It's a beautiful summers day, birds would sing and flitter about Central Two, retelling the world of their tales and whatever as they pursue each other in earnest. The general hustle and bustle of Two is what Diana Grey has come to know, having spent her entire life in Central Two.

However, that's about to change, sooner than later, as she sets foot into the hallways of the training academy: The Nut. Never faltering in her steps as it echoes along the empty white corridors. She passes by classrooms and lockers on her way to the training hall.

A smirk on her face, determined chocolate brown eyes scan the halls for any stragglers after the day is over, but there's nothing and no one. She's alone for the time being, it won't be for long though as she sees he door to the training hall, the largest in the district.

With slender, toned arms she pushes the door open with such gusto that it nearly slams onto the laminated white walls of the hall. It gathers the attention of the two quite bulky males on the blue mat.

Both hold confident faces, their training uniforms on, whilst Diana wears her normal clothes. A plain white t-shirt, comfortable blue skinny jeans and white shoes. She looks them both in the eyes, her brown eyes stare at both the boy's blue ones.

Despite being younger than her by two years, Campbell Canyon and Brasidas Clovenstone look down at her with their towering figures, and muscular frames. Ten years' worth of muscle and training has developed them into such strong figures.

Squads are trained here, and it's clear the both Campbell and Brasidas are in the same one, the colours of their uniforms state that much. The light blue lining of their clothes indicates what year they belong to.

There's two more years for them in this place, and yet they challenge her. Challenging the volunteer for the Hunger Games and beating her would surely catapult their popularity amongst the higher ups in The Nut. They'll be sure to get good job positions.

She doesn't blame them for trying. The smirk on her face never goes away as she stares them down despite her height difference to them. There's an air of mystery between them three, and she looks from the swords on the ground.

"A fight?" She says. "What are we? Twelve?"

"Then why did you come?" Brasidas asks, picking up the swords and presenting one to Diana.

She narrows her eyes, she takes the sword within her hands. It's true she accepted the challenge, and if there's one thing that Diana doesn't like is to back away from a challenge. It doesn't even matter at this point, she had already been chosen to volunteer tomorrow, and there's no changing the fact.

"I came, because I wanted to prove a point." She said backing away from the two boys.

"And what's that?"

"That you two, have no place being in this academy."

That seems to have pressed a few buttons on Campbell as he grips onto his sword tightly. She raises an eyebrow, a smirk on her face appearing once more. She grips onto her own sword, the dulled blade shines under the light seeping in through the windows.

There's a quiet moment between them before Campbell reacts first, his sword dragging onto the laminated flooring. He brings it upwards, but Diana blocks it with relative ease. The dulled blades spark even at that moment as she steps back.

"Not bad, Canyon." She says with a curt smile, then looks towards Brasidas. "You're not coming to join us?"

That's when Brasidas attacks, he runs towards her at a good speed, a battle cry as he raises his sword by his side with the aim of striking down at her. She steps aside just as he brings the sword down, his balance is now off course and she juts her sword hilt down at his back.

The boy collapses to the ground with a groan, she thinks about kicking the boy, so as that he stays down and deal with Campbell, who she thinks is the better of the two guys at fighting. She hisses for the boy to stay down and instead kicks the sword away.

She turns just in time for the blunt sword to hit the ground, she brings her own sword towards the boy, but he blocks it with ease and parries, making Diana stumble backwards. She looks at Campbell, an arrogant smile on his face.

"Can't handle us? Little miss perfect?" He chides at her, but it doesn't work.

"Still as childish as ever." She says out loud, her voice echoes in the empty hall.

She charges towards him, nimble and fast and brings the sword towards the boy. It doesn't quite stab him, as he blocks it yet again, but this time she pushes further, using the momentum. It catches the boy off guard and he lets go of his own sword.

She kicks it away too, the sound of metal scrapes along the floor. Brasidas, on the floor still, looks up at the ceiling lights and support frames. He looks defeated as he pants. Campbell isn't quite the same as his companion, instead his face raging at his loss.

"Now, let me make this clear." She says to Campbell. "You will not be welcome back into this academy, whether I die in that arena or not, I will make sure of it."

With that she drops the sword on the floor, a large clanging sound vibrates the weapon and echoes in the hall. Her footsteps follow, leaving the two boys in their sorrow and anger. They both knew what would happen if they couldn't beat her, and yet they accepted the challenge.

"Where have you been?" Asks one of her friends, Petra Riverrock.

"Taking care of a problem." She tells her, with a smile on her face. "Let's go home, Petra."

Her friend shrugs it off, already used to the randomness that always comes with Diana. They walk silently, listening to the hustle and bustle of the district. She asks her a couple of questions, just to make small talk but she soon stops when she finds Diana being somewhat annoyed about it.

"What will you do now?" She asks her as they brush past the market stands of Central Two.

"Volunteer, win, restore my family's name back to their glorious days."

They laugh together, their feet taking them around the corner of the stalls to where Petra resides. She goes to an unconventional hug, that Diana could not care less for, but emulates it back. The feel of warmth emanating from the girl is evident, and she relaxes into it.

"Even if I say goodbye to you tomorrow," Petra starts. "Please, don't be rash and foolish."

"I won't."

* * *

_**Chevelle Wheeler, 16, District Six**_

* * *

The day could not wind down fast enough. The ticking of the clock seems to slow down the more she looks at it. She swears the second hand takes a full minute before it ticks to the next groove of the plain white clock across from her.

A sigh escapes Chevelle's lips as she rests her chin on top of her hands. Blue eyes continue to stare at the clock, she briefly glances to the outside world, the feeling of sadness well up within her at the sunny day that's outside.

It's never normally that sunny in Six, on the rare occasion summer does come to the district, most people are either working, starving, using or any of the combinations that she lists in her head. Her hand aches by the sheer weight of her head, she lifts her head, a few straggly pieces of her bleached blonde hair cover her face.

She takes it all again and redo her ponytail. There's nothing for her to do in this shop, owned by Mr. Burr, near the third sector of the district. She travels all the way from the fifth to work in this hardware store that sees as maybe five people on a very good day.

Yet, she is grateful for him, to give her a job especially at her age, not being able to go to school because her father would not let her go to one. The thought of her father, the lazy slob that he is, brings a chill to her skin, bringing down the sleeve on her arms to cover up a few fresh bruises from when he had hit her the other night.

There's nothing for her to go back to in that house, but still she returns. Nothing is tethering her back in that home, decrepit and falling apart as it is. She returns because she's got nothing else to her name. The very few clothes she has are at home, packed away in a bag just in case she wants to leave.

Her only problem is that she's only sixteen, even if she's scrappy and a good fighter, physical fights can only do so much. She'll make more enemies than allies. She sighs as she looks at her hands, pale as they are, covered in one or two scars from fighting. The minute someone finds out that she's homeless, she'll be sent back home or into an orphanage. Neither one is a good option.

A bored sigh leaves her, but her attention quickly turns to the ringing of the door, a customer is something that could snap her out self-loathing. She stands up to greet whomever it might be and her eyes widen at the sight of her only friend.

Dax Haper comes in out of breath, his blonde hair and green eyes look dishevelled and panicked. His panting is all she could hear as she rushes towards him. At closer inspection, Chevelle could see the sweat pouring from the boy, as expected of such a hot day as today, and the running this boy must have done.

"Dax…" A cautionary tone to start off. "What have you done?"

"I swear…I didn't…think…it would escalate…" He says in between breaths.

Dax doesn't have such great stamina anyway, he doesn't have to scrap and fight for his life. He lives in Sector Two, where most of the rich folk live. You can normally distinguish the rich from the poor in Six, if they don't look malnourished or if they're clothes have no tears or hold in them, then they normally in either the first or second sector of Six.

Chevelle fits in one of those categories. She holds onto her friend, feeling like he'll faint if he talks more. She sits him down on the seat she was sitting on a few minutes ago now. She looks outside the door and windows and there's no one there yet.

"I'm going to repeat the question." She says folding her arms. "What did you do?"

"There's this guy, hanging around our usual spot." He says, finally catching his breath. "And I didn't want him hanging around there."

Chevelle slaps her forehead as a sigh escapes her thin lips. Bad things happen when this boy talks, more so the fights Chevelle gets into are more or less from Dax speaking. One of these days he will be the death of her.

"So, what now?"

"He's making his way here." He says rubbing the back of his head."

"Right."

That's all she says as she makes her way to a shelf in the store, taking a crowbar hanging from the hook, she holds in in her hands, feeling the weight of it all. She looks at Dax with a sense of conviction now. She's going to have to fight this person, no matter what now.

"He's here!"

She looks outside from the glass door with Dax, the man standing outside looks worse for wear. His hair is thinning, his frame thin as a skeleton. There's no escaping his angry face though as he begins to shout. Chevelle grips onto the crowbar tightly.

She's fought before, sure, but that's with kids their age. No one that's twice, maybe three, times older than they are. She's not scared, but she worries on what will happen if she ends up injuring not only the man, but herself.

She swallows whatever is in her throat and opens the door to the outside world. The ringing of the bell attracts the attention of the man, and he begins to shout at the both of them. She inwardly sighs, trying not to get provoked by all the hateful things, but her ghostly knuckles gripping onto the crowbar says something differently.

"I'm not afraid to use this." She says to him, and he just scoffs.

He advances forward, limping slightly as he does so. She had no choice but to use the weapon, it's either them or him and she's made the choice. She uses the blunt side of the crowbar and hits him right across the head, hard enough to scratch his head.

The man collapses to the ground, his body landing on the cracked pavement ground. Blood could be seen, and Chevelle looks at him with slight worry. That's when Dax comes in to try and kick the man, but she stops him.

"That's enough." She says. "Let's get out of here."

She drags him away, towards the shop where she locks it immediately. Already thoughts in her head going through a mile a minute. She's going to have to phone a Peacekeeper to pick up this body, and she's going to have to make excuses.

She takes Dax home, walking past cracked buildings and broken sidewalks. She fiddles with her sleeve, and the boy notices the new bruises. He stops her for a moment. He's about to say something, but the glare from Chevelle stops the boy.

She doesn't want to talk about it, despite him already knowing. She doesn't want another reason for the boy to take pity on her.

"Do you want to stay at our house for a while?"

"No." She replies. "It's fine."

Another reason why she doesn't want to live away is that her father is cunning, as much of a bitch he is, if he notices her missing then he'll alert the authorities. Then she's going to be hunted down for sure, and either put into care or returned to his father.

Six is strict in that sense, it's hard to keep such a big district in order, but those that are caught breaking the rules are punished to the absolute highest punishment. That's why she keeps to herself, stays with her father despite the feeling of being a human punching bag.

* * *

_**Mari Caresse Katou, 15, District Three**_

* * *

The soft pitter patter of rain hits the windows of the mayoral house of district Three. Mari didn't mean to stay this long in the house of her best-friend but the weather has other ideas. The darkening clouds on her way to Pixie's home was a tell-tale sign that it's going to rain but she ignores it in favour of wearing a white summer dress.

She always wears something nice when she makes her way to the Central Business District of Three, where the mayoral house is located. It's so much more different than where she lives back in Quarter 2. She's lived there all her life, but she spends most of her time in the Central Business District.

She often wonders what it's like to be in the other Quarters, are they better off than they are? Or are they worse? Saying that, she knows that her brothers are out there somewhere in the other Quarters of Three.

A yawn escapes her lips, it really is getting late, but the rain continues to drop from the dark clouds onto the cracked sidewalks of Three. Even if this is the wealthiest part of the district, it seems that weather and poor maintenance of roads is still prevalent.

"It doesn't normally rain this hard, right?" She asks Pixie, who is sitting by the sofa reading some sort of book.

"Hmm?" She looks up and all Mari could do is shake her head.

"It's nothing."

The other girl shrugs her shoulders, her short black hair in a messy way as is common of the Lu Household. Her best friend's room is covered in the colour of yellow, like the sunshine they barely see in Three. Although rain covers the whole district right now, it doesn't normally rain; despite the dark clouds that seem so common in Three.

The sunshine rarer than the rain it seems as she stares out the window again. The rain is slowing down now, enough for her to walk home in and not be completely soaking wet by the time she gets to the house.

"I should go home," she says still staring out the window. "My mother is going to be so worried."

"Are you sure?" She says. "I can make sure you get home tomorrow; the rain doesn't seem to be letting up."

"Stay for dinner?" Mari muses to herself but shakes her head. "No, my mother would never let me stay over, she's a very worrisome person."

She gets up from the window sill and walks towards her best friend. The book she's reading already beside her and looking at Mari with such worry already. Despite her outgoing nature, and never-ending boundless joy, worry is something that Mari hardly sees in her friend, not because she doesn't care much but because her joy normally overrides her emotions.

Pixie smiles, her face as sunny as her room appears to be in this drab day. She nods her head slowly and leaves the room. Mari wonders for a second why her friend is suddenly quiet but is answered immediately when she comes back with a little black umbrella.

"You should have this then." She smiles at her, extending the umbrella towards Mari.

"I can't possibly-"

"Yes, Mari, you can." She says in her stern voice. "I know it's light rain, but you live about half and hour or so away from us, you'd be soaking by the end of it."

"Thanks."

That's all she could say to her friend as she grabs the umbrella from her hand. They leave the happily coloured room and make it to the upstairs hallway, making their way down the stairs. Mari, even after all this time, is still amazed at the extravagance of the whole house.

Chandeliers hang directly in front of them as soon as they make it towards the stairs, each one glisten and glow a subdued yellow and orange. The glistening gold is sparse, yet obvious. It makes her feel out of place, making it so that she sticks out with her drab clothing style.

Her mother is the only one with a permanent job back at their place, her father long gone along with her two brothers. It's just the women that's left in Quarter 2, the men left them when she and her brother turned nine years old.

It's been six years then, and her heart aches more than ever to see her father and brothers. She hasn't spoken about it with anyone, ever. Not even her best friend, a person she divulges every little part of her day, knows the secret that she harbours deep within.

So, as she walks out of place, towards the door, a black umbrella held tightly in both hands. She can't help but think to just run away, to the other Quarters of the Three, looking for her father and brothers. She knows she can't do that, she's scared of the possibility, scared to even dream about it at night.

"Zhi?" She stops at her tracks when her friend mentions her brother's name.

She looks towards the boy; the signature messy Lu hair matches his sister very much. He looks like he's about to go out, somewhere magical and grown up, Mari supposes, despite being only a year older than both her and Pixie.

"Pixie, Mari." She couldn't help but feel the gaze a little bit longer on her, or maybe she just imagined it.

He's wearing a raincoat, a black one much like her umbrella. His face, as pale as many of Three, looks especially rosy for some reason. He glances with his dark eyes towards her brown ones, once again. He smiles as Pixie comes to confront her brother.

"Where are you going at this time?" She says to him with her arms crossed.

"Seeing some friends." He says to her and turns to look at Mari. "Going home?"

She nods and smiles shyly reaching for the golden doorknob but is stopped by Zhi, she looks to him, slightly her cheeks feel like it's burning as their hands briefly touch. She retreats backwards slightly, and she could see a brief change of emotion I'm Zhi but it's gone in an instant.

"Great! I'll take you home then, keep you safe."

"That's a good idea!" Pixie says, she turns to her best friend. "That would make me feel better, actually."

She nudges her, knowing that Mari harbours some sort of feelings towards Zhi. Pixie knows for a while now, but her brother seems as clueless as ever. Mari can only nod and the two of them exit into the rain.

Mari opens the umbrella, sprinkling the rain over Zhi, who just chuckles. He offers to hold her umbrella to which she rejects. He takes it into his hand anyway, making Mari blush even more and for Zhi's smile to get bigger.

The walk towards her house is silent yet comfortable. During this time Mari thinks a lot about her life, the way her best friend is one of the most fortunate in Three. How her and Zhi's home is so far ostentatious, seeing the difference in houses now, even in Quarter 1 and 5.

"What's wrong?" Zhi eyes her and she just shakes her head.

"Nothing, just admiring how lucky it is for Pixie to have such a great older brother."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you're, like, so kind to everyone, even to me some complete stranger."

"I hardly think you're a stranger." He smiles to himself.

There's a moment in which Mari thinks he's about to say something, but they reach her house before he could say it. She thanks him for keeping her safe. A quick apology, for something she doesn't know why, and she runs towards her door opening and closing it immediately.

As soon as she thinks that Zhi is away from her house, she slides down the white front door, her hands covering her heated and blushing face. Her mother, home from work, sees this and rushes towards her. She takes her chin and lifts it up.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing." She murmurs and her mother doesn't prod. "Honestly, I'm fine."

"Dinner will be ready soon," she says. "Get cleaned up and we can talk about our day later."

That's when Mari builds up the confidence to ask this question, burning in her mind since leaving he Lu household. "Mom? How about, after the Reapings, we can go and see dad and everybody else?"

She can see her stiffen quickly, a cold chill in the air. Mari looks on, hopeful that she could see her twin brother and her older brother. Her mother sighs. "I'll think about it."

She doesn't say anything, just kissing her mother on her cheek, a smile on both their faces, one genuine and the other a fake one. She leaves the space and made her way to her and her sister's room to get ready.

* * *

_**Magdalene Juniper, 16, District Seven**_

* * *

The cool breeze whistles through the leaves upon the trees, passing by leaves rustling them up. The clouds lazily drift, leaving wispy whites on the blue background. The summer heat contrasting with the wind, leaving glistening sweat as the Juniper siblings make their way to their favourite spot of Seven.

Magdalene Juniper sits by the river bank, pink picnic blanket underneath her as she watches the world go by. Her repercussions in the place she works in will come but today is too good a day to work within the forestry, instead she opts to go out to the wilder side of Seven, closer to where the fence is, just across the river.

She spends her time here to think, other times she brings her siblings and parents whilst they enjoy all the nature the district has to offer. Tougher oak trees that you can climb, towering pines with their bristly leaves.

Summer or winter, this area of Seven is her place to go to. She watches on as her twin siblings, Samson and Delilah splash about inside the river. Clear cool waters run through the outskirts of Seven, another reason why she loves this place.

She smiles as Samson splashes their sister, the sound of giggling mingling with the cool breeze that runs past them at times. She closes her eyes, almost wanting to fall asleep at the sound and pleasant feeling alone.

There's not even an inkling of a doubt on the next couple of days to come. The Reapings are tomorrow, the consequences for skipping work, and practically taking her sisters and brothers out of school to spend such a lovely day outside.

It's worth it, she thinks it over, believing that no one should ever be denied such an amazing opportunity to enjoy the district. The general feelings leading up to the Hunger Games, is generally discordant, people roam the district with sadness in their eyes, nervousness scouring the children like blight.

She sighs contently, looking for her other siblings. She's the eldest of seven children, a lot of responsibility has been handed to her by their parents, and whilst she tries her best, there are times where she does go against the grain. That's why she decides to take a break from it all and let her hair down.

"I think we should go back." Sapphira says to her, look of worry in her eyes.

"It's fine, Saph." She tells her and scoots back to sit beside her. "I'll take all the blame."

"I don't want you getting in trouble either, Maggie." She looks down at the book she brought with her.

"It's fine, right Ruth?"

"Yeah!" She says with her doll by her side. "Can I go play with Sam and Del, too?"

The eldest sister nods her head and Ruth practically screams for hoy as she takes her shoes off and runs towards the water. The splash of cool water nearly reaches the two sitting on the blanket, and Maggie couldn't help but laugh, which brighten up Sapphira too.

_There's nothing to worry about._

The thought repeats through her head a thousand times before Thomas and Silas jump into her field of view. A cheeky smile on them bought suggest they're up to no good, as always. She sighs as she looks around, for traps, and lands her eyes on Thomas.

"Is this another trick? Another beetle to torment Saph?" She asks him.

"No, no!" Silas says, giggling along with it.

"Well after you pointed out poisonous berries on the way over here, we decided to go look for wild fruits…"

"And?" She's crossing her arms at the small jab that her brother just said.

She's never been good at school, she's more caring and nurturing to think about school. The other time occupying her life is work. At least, both Ruth and Thomas, and Silas too, stops her from ingesting the berries.

"We found apples, hanging from the tree just over there."

He points across the river. She looks across the river, the trees look denser, the fence separating the district from the Wilds within it. A worry crawls over her stomach before she nods and Thomas smiles.

"Let's go." She says.

"Please be careful." Ruth calls back to a retreating Magdalene.

"I'm always careful." She says and Ruth smiles.

Thomas and Silas lead her across the river, her feet feel cool in the water. She relaxes a bit more as she holds onto Silas, the little toddler is smarter than her in some regards, but also rather uncontrollable at times.

"Apples!" He says as they walk through the untamed forest.

The contrast between the commercial uses near lumber mills to the ones on the outskirts of Seven is staggering. Trees appear out of nowhere, making it easy for people to hide, with this it's already giving her ides for future playdates with her siblings.

"It's just there." Thomas points, and true enough a large apple tree, it looks years and years old.

The striking thing that takes her brown eyes are the red apples, glistening from sunlight that manages to peer through the canopy. The apples look juicier, and redder the higher they appear to be on the tree.

"That's wonderful." She says, in astonishment.

Apples are a little more common in Seven, but they always cost just a bit more. The main focus on timber leaving next to nothing with other food commodities. Now that they've found a literal fruit goldmine she doesn't have to pay a bit extra for apples ever again.

Thomas rushes towards it, already getting ready to climb. He's only stopped by Maggie, and he looks at her all confused. There's a worry on her face, that almost always appear whenever her siblings are doing something dangerous, or something she doesn't approve of.

Climbing dangerous trees, so far away from their home, is one of those worrisome effects on Maggie. She lets go, and looks at Thomas with a nod, "Please be careful."

"I will." He says with a nod and continues towards the tree.

He grips onto the bark, slowly at first before hauling himself up on the branch, his tanned skin glistening with sweat already from the summer heat. He climbs higher and higher, the worry within her rising the more he ascends.

When he nears the top, he stops looking at the juicy red apple; glistening along with his face. He smiles as he plucks enough for his siblings. Maggie looks on, furrow in her brows as her brother scales down the tree.

Once he's back on the ground, Magdalene could not help but hug her brother who just laughs awkwardly. She does this from time to time, despite the appearance of being carefree, Magdalene love her family more than anything. She relies on them and they rely on her, she would be extremely sad if something is to happen to anyone of her family members.

"I told you I'll be fine." He laughs it off, handing her some of the apples.

"I know, I know, but I still can't help it." She frowns at him, handing two apples to Silas who smiles with glee.

"Well I learned how to climb because of you, so there's a chance that I'd be a good climber."

"Alright, smugness can get you nowhere, lets go back to everyone else."

As they walk back to the river bank, seven apples with them. Magdalene thinks about her life in general, how content she is right now, with everyone and everything in her life. It's like nothing will ever ruin it, despite every year the Hunger Games come back.

So long as her siblings aren't taken to the Capitol, there's nothing in her life that could change it for the worst because seeing her siblings after a stressful day instantly melts her worries and fears, her tiredness drips out from her body.

Foolishness.

Something a few people she would know would describe her listless acts of today. Skipping work to be with her siblings, not contributing for her family. She couldn't care less at this point, as she lay on the blanket when they arrive, biting on the crunchy skin of the apple, the juice flowing down her face, brown eyes staring at the tree branches obscuring her vision from the blue sky.

At this moment, she is in bliss, and she would not trade anything in the world for it.

* * *

**A/N - Welcome back?**

**I do apologise for the time it took to update. It was a hectic week at work (where I worked a seven day stretch). Then I just procrastinated the rest of it.**

**I'm here now though! With another update.**

**What do you all think of Diana, Chevelle, Mari and Maggie? I love them all, of course. I'm not saying any favourites just yet, but I will feel generally conflicted killing the eight tributes I've introduced so far.**

**So what's next? Reapings and Goodbyes are next. It won't be just boys and girls in separate chapters, it will be mixed now. I just wanted to introduce these guys in a different format. I'm also sorry for the longish words on this one. I got carried away typing ; - ;**

**I'm going to plan the next two chapters now, so apologies for another wait!**

**Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

**~Alec**


	8. Chapter 3: Easy Goodbyes

_"I make it easier for people to leave by making them hate me a little."_  
_~ Cecelia Ahern_

* * *

_**Ashley Allspicer, 15, District Eleven**_

* * *

The Wilds, a section in each district that is off limits. Beyond the whirring and humming of electric fences, you'll find lush greenery, untouched by humans for decades. Trees grow freely, animals live with no care.

That's what Ashley Allspicer see everyday, as she nocks another arrow in the wooden bow. Drawing back the string, she steadies her breath to the point where she stops completely before letting go. She hears it whirl through the air, hitting the tree bark from across the fence. The sound satisfies her, the way the pointed metal tip hits the bark with a resounding thud. She smiles to herself, amber eyes glisten with joy as she nocks another arrow.

She practices with her bow and arrow skills almost exclusively ever since that event that changed her life, the one that completely flipped her entire being upside down; so much so that she finds it hard to trust people in general.

If there are questions that people may ask, it's how she acquired a lucrative item like the bow she holds tightly in her hands. The thoughts immediately appear in her mind, fresh as the day it had happened. She shakes her head, clearing it from view as she listens to the forest sounds to relax her.

Living in the outskirts of Eleven has that perks, far away enough from Peacekeepers that they don't mess with your business, and close enough to the forest of the Wilds, close enough to freedom. There are times where she's tempted to escape.

Escape the mundane life of working in the orchards or cotton fields of Eleven and just survive out there. It's a pipe dream at best, and she knows it, nocking another arrow that she made herself. She can't get the arrows from across the fence, but one day she will.

She lets go, the arrow whizzing and cutting through the air with such precision hitting a stray log on the forest floor. Sometimes she pictures these solid, stationary trees as people; mainly Peacekeepers, visions of the events occurring again in her head until she holds her head with one of her hands, the other gripping hard on the bow.

Her breathing becomes raspy as she steadies herself. A dizzying feeling, but she represses it, or at least she tries to. She shakily grasps for another arrow and readying another shot but it fails before she can even let it go, nipping her face with the bowstring instead.

"Fuck." She says out loud, disturbing the forest air around her.

She's gotten good in the last couple of months but triggers still slip through the cracks in the wall she had built around herself. Haunting memories still relive themselves in her nightmares and her every waking thoughts.

Her family used to belong to a long line of fruit farmers, even having a side business of selling some for themselves with the majority being exported to the Capitol. Her father owned the business, and so did his father and so on.

The small field they once owned is now gone, absolved by the government of Eleven, Ashley too young to ever manage by herself, and her uncle refusing to take it over. Her long legacy of fruit farmers ends with her and her alone.

Another arrow cuts through the air, missing the tree this time. A long sigh escapes her lips, closing her eyes in disappointment. Thinking of the past is never a good idea, breaking her concentration where she should be resolute.

Thinking about the past isn't going to make matters any better for her, and she knows that. That's what her uncle told her the minute she was rescued by her uncle. The thought alone seems to chill the air around her as she looks around.

Nothing.

The close wilderness behind her uncle's home is empty, devoid of anything other than overgrown grass and a few fruit trees. Some timber by the side of the house for fires and nothing more. The fence at the opposite side of the house, dilapidated as it already is.

Even though it's different to where she used to live, the outskirts of Eleven is peaceful, a place to come to if you ever want to escape the craziness of the world, and she appreciates that from time to time.

The loneliness she feels now used to bother her, but she grew to love it, she grew to embrace it. At fifteen, you would expect most girls her age to have friends and to laugh and live; that's over for her now.

In this world she now lives in, there's no time for such things. Frivolous as it may seem, she never seeks out companions. Thinking that most people are not worthy of her trust. So she keeps to herself, hardened by her experiences.

Yet, for some reason she absentmindedly grips hard on her bow, a faded white colour from what it once was over two years ago now, as she begins to prepare another arrow to fire. She's alone, and that's how she prefers it.

The arrow whizzes through the air, hitting almost the exact same spot as the first arrow of the day. She smiles and loosens the grip on her bow. She ought to get ready soon, it is Reaping Day after all. Punishments are doled out for tardiness.

Another reason why she dislikes the Peacekeepers so much, those in white that abuse their powers, as if their armour is suddenly something they can hide behind. She grits her teeth as she begins to gather the remaining arrows she has; making a mental note to make some more when she gets back.

Her uncle must still be working, or else he would have warned her about practicing the bow and to get ready. She looks at her handiwork, the tree and its surroundings covered in arrows. She heads back to the empty home.

It's sad to think that she's always alone, but that's something that she didn't care about. She and her uncle Shawn are the only ones that remain of their respective family name; with Shawn being Ashley's mother's brother.

Both of them loners and outcasts, the events that led them to live on the outskirts of Eleven amongst the other poverty-stricken citizens were circumstantial. A riot, common in places like Eleven, and followed by death.

Rebellion is what got her into this life. It's what got her into this hell she's living in. It left her with scars, not physical, but emotional. A day in her life is something she does not wish on anyone lightly. She clicks her tongue, there she goes again thinking of the past once more.

She takes her bow and arrows, going to the pile of timber at the side of the house, hiding them all behind, away from prying eyes. If there's one thing that people commend Ashley for it's for being careful with everything she does.

With that she makes her way into the house.

The wooden home is cosy, if not slightly rustic in nature. The corners of the home being taken over by some form of moss or fungus; she doesn't quite know. A rug with a small coffee table serves as the living room to an open kitchen, which is rarely used.

The small Capitol supplied television is in one of the corners, rotting along with the floorboards. Her uncle Shawn never turns it on or when it does turn on, because the government controls all Capitol technology, he puts a cloth over it.

There's a second floor to the home, ascending the creaking floorboards of staircase. She notes the sound and will have to tell her uncle to fix some of them, or else they risk collapsing. It happens, she's seen it once or twice now.

One of the disadvantages of living in outskirts of the district is that the government doesn't care for you. Supplies barely reach the homes here, electricity fades in and out in favour of powering the long line of electric fences.

The water supply is not privy to these as well. Normally the water is enough to last them the whole day, but other times it doesn't even come. Therefore Ashley showers maybe once or twice a week, no matter how hot and sweaty she gets in the near tropic climate of Eleven.

Luckily for her there's enough water in the barrel for a quick wash, she'll use some after the Reapings. She washes her body, dark ebony skin. She leaves her hair untouched, black dreadlocks neatly put away. She gives her face a wash with calloused hands, from working and gripping her arrows.

She finishes a couple of minutes later, no time to waste if the water isn't even hot. Ashley's room isn't too far away from the bathroom either, and as she walks into her room she quickly puts on the neatest clothes she has; black sweatpants and a purple shirt.

At this time she contemplates her odds of being Reaped today. She thinks her odds are higher than some, a few extra white slips with her name on it are present, from the tesserae she had taken for the last two years. That may have put her at a disadvantage, however, she thinks her chances of coming out victorious is actually pretty good.

She takes one last look at herself, in the blurring, cracked and rusty mirror attached to her door. A woman stares back at her, so finished with the world with trauma hidden behind her indifferent eyes, a hint of sadness behind amber pupils.

Roughly, it takes an hour to get to the Square from where they live. So she heads out, closing the wooden door and making her way through the dirt road leading into the centre of the district.

Houses sparsely populates the dirt road, some near collapse and others just as dilapidated like her uncle's house. Rusting corrugated rooves in different sizes cover the top of most houses, and sometimes count as the walls of houses.

Glassless windows show into the houses marking a stark difference between the outskirts of the district to the central. The houses give an abandoned feel, as nature is coming back to reclaim some of them. Weeds, moss and whatever else grow and crawl up the walls.

She doesn't converse with anyone, keeping to herself, hands inside her pockets. No friends or acquaintances contributes to that. She keeps to herself pretty well, only going to work and coming back straight after. Her uncle is her only source of companionship and even then, they tend not to speak with each other as much.

She continues to travel, the sounds of the wilderness; the birds and the rustling of leaves, replaced by the sad droning of chatter amongst the Eleven citizens; who are all tired and weary from the summer heat as well as working in the orchards and fields.

That's when she arrives, amongst the crowd, she faces the Square, the Justice Building standing tall and imposing; a statement that the Capitol is always watching everyone. Ashley falls in line with the other children, some are nervous and others are scared.

She feels the prick of her fingers, a single drop of blood collected and identified. She's registered after that, from one drop of blood they know everything about you; your age, how many slips you have in the bowl this year; your history…everything.

She gruffly nurses the smallest bruise on her finger as she stands with the girls her age She is one of the last children to arrive at the Square, the escort already introducing the mayor for their annual speech about how great the Capitol is.

When that is over, the escort takes centre stage again. Her hair a bright green in colour, and her entire skin having a reddish hue to it, like clay. She smiles at the crowd, her Capitol accent striking and different from what Ashley normally hears.

"Welcome, welcome!" She says through the microphone, blasting her voice to the masses. "This is the Reaping of the Twenty-eight Annual Hunger Games! It is, of course, me Kitty Seton as your escort again!

She doesn't waste any time as she picks the microphone and walks to the girl's bowl. Large and imposing, shining and reflecting a tiny bit of the lights pointed at it. "Let's not dilly dally, let's see who the female tribute is this year."

She dips a manicured hand into the bowl, she does it all so slowly, as if testing her hand on a hot bath. She picks up a single slip of paper, she goes back to the centre and attaches the mic onto the stand as she begins to read the paper.

"The female tribute this year is…" She draws a breath as she begins to read out loud the name. "Ashley Allspicer! Where is our beautiful Ashley!"

The seconds before her name was called, it felt as if there was a blip in her mind. A flash in her head seems to sever all sounds and visions, but she heard her name just in time. She blinks once, before she begins to move.

Her face, as she walks towards the stage contorts into something awful, a mixture of whatever she is feeling at this point in time; enough to turn onlookers away, either in fear or in disgust. She doesn't really know what she is feeling, but she knows it's not great.

She doesn't even pay attention much after that, her face stays to that anger and disgust on her face. Apparently, the male tribute is someone called Klayton Barker, a boy she had never met, and a boy she may never see again.

He looks a year younger than her, she notes how he tries to put on a brave face, a lanky fourteen-year-old will never be a victor, no matter how resolute and brave he looks. She raises an eyebrow, and her assumptions are confirmed as Klayton's face immediately changes to that of sadness, a boy on the verge of tears until he breaks down completely into a sobbing heap.

"There you have it folks!" Kitty shouts out loud. "Your tributes this year!"

Ashley likes to think that Eleven has a chance this year, and they may very well do with her in the Games.

* * *

_**Rye Durum, 16, District Nine**_

* * *

Late morning, the district is slowly waking up to the fact that it's the Reapings today. It will be someone's first Reaping for several of these children. Anxious to see if their names are going to get called out, to see I they're going to die a horrible gruesome death; others it would be their last time, hoping to whatever higher force that they do not fall on the last hurdle.

For Rye Durum, it's different. He bursts out of the baker's shop in central Nine, passing by several Peacekeepers in their white uniforms. A bright and devious grin on his face as he pushes past men, women and children of all ages.

He doesn't even bother about the man shouting after him, the poor baker is yet another victim of his pranks. The district already disapproves of him, but for some reason he doesn't get any form of repercussions, a stern talking to by his grandmother is all he looks forward to.

He laughs and giggles as he glances a look back at the baker, now covered in flour, face as bright as a tomato. His pure rage and shouting of expletives suggest to Rye that his prank of throwing a flour bomb was successful in annoying him.

It's a harmless joke, nothing to serious and yet he doesn't understand why people take him so literally. It doesn't compare to the pranks he held last year, each seemingly more destructive than the last before he got truly punished by the Peacekeepers.

A lashing, once or twice before he was let go. His grandmother pleaded that a fifteen-year-old should not be punished as such. He could only thank that the Peacekeeper on duty was a merciful one. However, Rye didn't really learn his lesson, so much as hated him.

He rushes back to his home, the gravel pathway surrounded by yellow fields, many still working in the fields even to this late of the day to get the quota. They soon will stop so they can attend the Reapings. His feet crunch the stones, and the metal gate creaks open as he pushes it with force.

The Victor's Village of Nine is remarkable, in a way that it stands out from any other homes in the whole district. Surrounded by fields and fields of yellow, is the plot of square land, containing several empty houses, bar two, all coloured in the most unremarkable brown one could ever lay their eyes on.

Rye lives in one of those houses, not through choice but he stayed, if only to look after his grandmother. He saunters over to the fenced off home. It's true that he lives here and that he's a victor's son, one of the first if he is led to believe.

Although he doesn't care about all of this. A product of a one-night stand, an illegitimate son of Adlay Durum, left at the porch of the victor sixteen years ago now. He hates how much he looks like him, dark blonde curls, what his grandmother calls the 'Durum Curls' stating that her brothers all had it, and his father despite his age still possess it. They can also recognise him with his bright hazel eyes, the Durum's are unique in that their hazel eyes are the most striking features.

His movement slows down, seeing that his grandmother is standing outside in the front yard, watering the plants she cares so much about. Her happy smile and humming Rye can hear, the sweet sounds reaching his ear. From his view, he could tell how much older she's gotten, and he dares not think of the day where she's no longer by his side.

Grandma Ceres is everything to Rye Durum and there's nothing that changes all that. His eyes flick to the person standing next to her, only just noticing a slightly taller figure, her curly light brown hair and tanned skin luminous under the late morning sun.

Slavia Korovai, latest victor of the Hunger Games, is always happy to help out his grandmother and for that he is thankful. She's been coming to the house ever since his grandma invited her over, straight after she came home from the Hunger Games, a broken yet resolute woman stands where someone that was completely scared of the world before.

Salvia is probably one of the only people that Rye speaks to the most. Her personality mixed with his just gels perfectly. They could spend the entire day just talking about nothing, at first, he doesn't know why she speaks to him so much, and he never really found out why, but he appreciates talking to someone closer to his age.

His homelife isn't exactly kid friendly. With a near alcoholic father, and an old woman, it's not wonder he tends to pull pranks and wander the entire district. It's come to the point where he views Salvia as more of a pivotal role-model rather than his father, who he only views as a mere housemate at this point.

"Ah, Rye! Where have you been all morning?" He hears his Ceres speak to him, a smile on her face as he rushes in for a hug and kiss. "I've been worried we won't see you until after the Reapings."

"Just out for my wanders." He smiles, rubbing the back of his head, that's when Ceres notices the white substance on the hem of his black shirt, and she frowns, hands on hips already.

"You've been bothering that poor baker again!" She tuts waving a finger at him.

"I swear, this time he deserved it!" He says, a tiny tug on the side of his lips suggest that he's going to burst into laughter any moment, Salvia's quiet snickering isn't helping it much.

"Away with ye!" She tells him. "Go get changed you wee rascal, it's time for the Reapings!"

She playfully hits him on his shoulder, which he rubs absentmindedly. He says goodbye to Slavia who in turns just smiles at him. "I'm taking Ceres to the Square so we'll just see you there, okay?"

"Got ya." He says and he walks into the house.

It's quiet, and empty. Not as lively as the district centre, and even outside. A temperate home living filled to the brim with gaudy Capitolonian furniture. He passes by several pictures of his grandmother and him when he was younger, some of Adlay. He scoffs, as he sees that he's the spitting image of his father.

He finds his way up the stairs, wood creaks under his weight. His room just to the left, past by his father's room. He takes a sneak peak inside, the smell of alcohol and other things he can't identify fills his nostrils real fast, to the point that he gags.

However, Adlay is nowhere to be seen. He wonders where he might be, he's normally home either drunk or high, or with some woman. Although, lately, since Salvia had won the Hunger Games, he had not been drinking as much, or doing dangerous things. He actually stays home and helps around the house, sometimes.

Although it's not enough for Rye to completely forgive him. He hates him with a passion, for what he's done and what he thinks he'll continue to do. It probably would not surprise him that the people he goes to school with are his half-siblings.

No one has really justified why he acts out from time to time, but he thinks it's down to the fact that his homelife isn't as great. Having to live not knowing who his mother is and his father being absent most, if not all, of his life.

He pays it no more attention, as he makes his way into his room. Even though he dislikes his father, the perks of having a victor as a family member he could get used to. A comfortable life, plenty food on the table, his life is safe because of him.

Putting on a white shirt with a black leather jacket and similar coloured trousers. He makes his way back down the stairs, fixing his hair on the mirror close to the door. He puts on his white sneakers and makes his way out into the district, towards the Square.

It's a short walk from the Victor's Village to the Square, a dirt road connecting one from the other; yellow fields sandwiching it together. His eyes scan the road, he finds a small stick amongst the grass and he hits a few of the golden stalks with it. Soon he'll have to start working, a somewhat mandatory labour for children turning sixteen.

He doesn't like the prospect of it, but he might find it good. Something to put that pent-up anger, or whatever it is, into good work. He knows that his grandmother would be so proud of him. He'll do it, if it makes her happy.

He hits a couple more barley stalks before dumping the stick as he nears the Square. His eyes spot blonde hair standing by the registration area. Harvey Markt is smiling talking with other people his age and he approaches them.

"Hey!" Harvey exclaims, a happy freckled face greets him. "That prank on the baker? Classic!"

"Thanks." He laughs with him.

Harvey would be his best-friend. More than that, his partner-in-crime, always there when they're pulling off pranks. His sunny disposition is devious in a way that he always gets away with everything.

Rye likes him because he feels like Harvey sees him as a person, and not the son of some victor. He likes him for _him_. They high-five before getting their fingers pricked, talking the whole way through it.

He hears all the mutterings of those older than him, and then the sobbing of people younger than him. It's a terrible thing that some of these people he's looking at will have twice even triple the odds of being selected than him.

The Square is full now, everyone standing patiently as the escort, and the mayor talk about the merciful Capitol. The boring speeches not reaching his ears and instead laughing with Harvey at how ridiculous the escorts are getting every year.

"She looks like a human broccoli." He says to Harvey who just wheezes as quietly as he can.

Then comes the time as Anissa Chips, the escort for Nine, reaches into the bowl for the female tributes. Suddenly, everything becomes tense. He doesn't even have a chance to breathe as the woman reads out the name of the female tribute.

Avena Garner is her name, and the face she holds of pure shock then despair takes over, she wails almost collapsing on the way to the stage. Her crying echoes in the silent Square and all Anissa could do is smile and make her way to the male tribute's bowl.

"Let's see who will be accompanying Ms. Garner here." She takes the slip of paper and reads the name out loud. "Well this is interesting…I recognise that name! Rye Durum? Make your way to the stage!"

His name being called out fills his face with shock, he turns to Harvey who mirrors his reaction. He shakes his head but Harvey could only back away slowly, nodding his head to confirm that he is indeed the chosen one.

He shakes himself out of his initial shock as he begins to walk forward. The Square still remains silent, even he could not hear the sound of his grandmother crying in the crowd. His eyes train themselves to his father, who looks just as shocked as he was; Salvia too.

He replaces his shock with confidence as he looks at the crowd. His eyes never betraying him, he could win this. Two victors under their belt, his odds of winning are double that of those that only have one.

* * *

_**Shade Grimoire, 18, District Five**_

* * *

It was finally beginning; the noise of the Capitol is starting. They slowly take away twenty-four children from all the districts and whisk them away to be paraded firstly before having to kill each other secondly.

Shade Grimoire is lucky to be one of those people. He scoffs as he sits on one of the pristine looking white sofas. He brushes his dark coloured hair away from his eyes, revealing blue eyes with heavy dark bags under them; not sleeping much these days results in such heavy bags, but it adds to his intimidating appearance.

He ponders about his situation, sitting inside the Justice Building, in one of the many white rooms it holds. A portrait of the new President hanging atop the fireplace, his menacing green eyes stare right through you. There are other portraits, of course, but none too interesting for him.

Being reaped at his age is already an increased chance, however, he had not taken any tesserae, he had been living in an orphanage in the last three years of his life, and before that his family had been wealthy enough to afford food every day.

It feels like he can still hear his name from the escort's lips, echoing throughout the quiet Square, and no reaction from anyone, or rather more confused tones as to who this person was. Other that knew him could give two shits and he doesn't care about them either.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity where your life is gambled away, and he is one of those lucky winners, going to fight twenty-three other children; some younger and others the same age as him. Speaking of, he hears a large slam next door. He winces at the sound, as it rattles some of the paintings hanging on the wall. His now district partner, some rich girl called Kenna St. Clair.

Kenna did not look that bad, face and beauty wise. She looks shorter than most girls, but her pale face and light blond hair would have to be her most notable features. He could remember the way her white dress billows in the air, as a small breeze hits the stage before they shook hands.

Although her angelic features totally betray his impression of her. He could hear her rage next door, shouting and acting crudely. He couldn't make out what she's shouting about, but Shade knows she's not one happy angel.

Not that he cares much about her anyway, just some morbid curiosity. He could be the one ending her life in a few weeks' time for all he knows, or maybe the other way around. He'll need to properly meet her to decide if she's worth caring about. He'll find, more often than not, that he doesn't care and, for now, she's just another person like the rest of Panem: devoid of thought, a sheep in the meadow to slaughter, that's how he views humanity most days.

His morbidity might stem from his background, his parents worked jobs that one would consider odd. His mother was a forensic surgeon, worked with corpses day in and day out. He missed her dearly, how she could still smile after the end of the day seeing countless dead people. His father too worked a morbid job as grave keeper to the only cemetery in Five, located close to the Victor's Village.

This branded his family as weirdos, no one in school would want the befriend the creepy Grimoire kid, in fear that they would be cursed. A cruel joke, sure, and he supposed that's how he developed such a cynical view in life.

That's when the last half an hour of the Reapings replay in his head. How he laughed inwardly at himself as he stood within his fellow eighteen-year-olds. It felt refreshing in a way that he thought he could win the Games.

Let the Capitol think he's intimidating or unemotional, as he rolled his eyes when his name was called. Let the Capitol think what they want, that's all they're good for anyway. He abhors them so much, the root of all evil stems from the Capitol.

He starts to lie down on the white sofa, his white shirt and black trousers being wrinkled, despite the hard work put into them by the orphanage owner. She really deserves better than looking after shitheads like him, and he doubts none of these people would ever come to visit him.

He has no one left in his life that could give a damn about him. He lost them all, either through death or prison, to which he doesn't care for his father that's in prison. He was never much of a father to him when he was growing up.

He cared less and less nowadays, his upbringing is all he had to cling to as memories. The only thing he really cared about; the memory of his mother just before she was murdered by his own father. An extremely paranoid man, his thoughts got the better of him and convinced himself that his wife was having an affair, he strangled her.

He witnessed it all happen, at the age of fifteen, three years ago. His wide blue eyes, filled with tears as his father told him that he could not do anything about all of this, that no one would believe such a young boy. He tried to run away but his father had held him tight against the wall, he threatened his security of shelter and food, that if his father went away then he would lose it all.

It must have sucked for his father, because the minute he had killed his mother his sense of home was gone. He reported him the next day. All this time he forgot that his grandmother had existed, the spiteful woman that owned a lot of cats, that worked with dead things too, taxidermist.

He never truly cared for her, as she was more focused on her own son than he was. When she found out that the man she cared for all her life was arrested for murder she could not handle it, she suffered from paranoia too and committed suicide the following day.

He thought it funny now that the forensic surgeon won't be able to examine the cause of death, as his mother was the only one in the district; and that funeral arrangements would have taken ages because there's no grave keeper.

He stares at the ceiling now, thinking back on his life he doesn't think he would change much. Strange as I may seem, he likes his sense of freedom from the witch that was his grandmother and the controlling nature of his father.

Spending time in the orphanage, he hated it as much as his home life. No one went through what he went through. The kids all look very happy to be there, and that spiralled him down to questioning what it means to be alive deepening his cynicism. His sense of self is fragmented, stuck between living and purgatory.

He spends his time alone, within the library of the orphanage reading philosophy books, or ones that the Capitol allows the district to have. He begins to question everything and everyone to the point that he's isolated by the children, not paying him any attention.

The books he reads blur the concept of life and death; are we truly alive if we have not experienced such a thing? He asks that to himself constantly, contemplated doing it for some time, wondering how his grandmother felt when she plunged a knife into her heart.

Then again, he was too scared to properly do it, he doesn't injure himself. There's still that sense within him that wants him to live, to continue and get out of this existential life he's living in. His head debates life and death all the time.

"Maybe I'm getting paranoid as well?" He speaks to himself loudly.

That's when he looks, still from his position of lying on the sofa to the door, creaking open to reveal someone he knows. He didn't think anyone is actually going to visit him, yet here is Starlight McRoaland, wearing her flowery Reaping dress, her curly brown hair and ebony skin so striking in the white room.

She closes the door slowly and softly as she makes her way to Shade, who is now sitting on the sofa, still wondering why she's here and not celebrating with the other orphans. She sits beside him, a smile on her face.

Out of all the children in the orphanage, Starlight is the only one that speaks to him, has been since the day he was put under the care of the orphanage. She's always the instigator of conversation to which he doesn't respond much to, he's always shrugging her off and hardly responds to her questions, and yet she relents.

There's a small smile on her face, an apologetic one, the one that screams at him in pity. He hated that look, the way the carers of the orphanage look at him all the time. He just looks away, composing himself as he keeps his signature straight face.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, no one saying anything. This is how they normally are in the orphanage, her following him around at times sitting beside him until he eventually cracks under her rapid-fire questioning. She has potential to be one of the popular people in the orphanage and yet here she is, sitting with him before he is whisked away into the Capitol.

"I'm sorry." She finally says, softly.

"Don't be." He says with a huff. "I don't need pity."

"I'm not giving you pity." She defends herself, slightly hurt by the way he speaks to her.

"Oh really? Then why are you here?!" He says finally cracking. "Out of all the people you could annoy, why does it have to be me, huh? Are you that sick in the head that you want to fix some broken kid? I hate that so much, thinking you can just saunter into my life like we're friends."

He stands up and walks away from her. He doesn't know why he's this angry, she's only being nice, but he's never had someone be this nice to him since his mother. He looks back at the girl, tears streaming down her face.

"I can list a few things I dislike about you," he continues. "How your smile reminds me of everything that was good in my time, now snuffed out by my father, and it's so depressing that you remind me of that all the time. You should just leave, you'll not get any thanks from me."

She doesn't say anything else, tears dropping on the carpet as she makes her way to the white doorway. Opening it and shutting it just as softly from when she came in. She leaves him in the lonely room again, leaves him with his thoughts once more.

_It's better this way._

He has no one to rely on, no one to be there to annoy him and detract his one-track mind. Sighing, he stares out the window, at the Square, now empty except for the retreating form of Starlight. That's when the Peacekeeper knocks on his door, opening it as he commands Shade to follow him.

It's time to win this.

* * *

_**Lily Mendoza, 17, District Four**_

* * *

Her daily routine consists of push ups, sit ups and then a run around the beach until her legs buckle. She did all that this morning, but what she didn't account for is her sitting around the lavish rooms of the Justice Building, a place she only ever sees during tours of Four, to which she took when she was enrolled in one of those lesser 'academies' of Four.

A sigh escapes her lips as she makes her way to one of the sofas, coloured an ocean blue, a representative of the ocean that borders Four. The colour is fast becoming her favourite as she composes herself for what is to come next. She can name at least one person that would be so disappointed with what has happened.

Yet, she didn't mind that much. Maybe it's the adrenaline still coursing its way around her veins, the way her hand trembles at the excitement of volunteering. The small gasps of those around her as soon as a name was called out.

Volunteering had always been part of her plan, that's why she exercises daily ever since she was enrolled in an academy other than Triton. She just never thought she would be volunteering this year at all.

She gets up, unable to sit still for long, making her way into one of the arched white framed windows that showcases the Square in its full glory. She looks out listlessly, watching the citizens of Four hug their loved ones, making it another year of no one being reaped from their family.

Lily Mendoza wonders what it was like when children were being reaped in the first few years of the Games, with no one there to volunteer and save them. She couldn't think of a time when the last tribute was reaped, since the conception of Triton Academy there's been a steady number of students volunteering for the Hunger Games, at a shot of glory, no of which have been truly successful.

She wasn't from Triton, her parents are not that rich, instead she was put in one of those lesser academies, a back-alley type that costs significantly less and twice as brutal. Suffice to say she didn't last long in one of those academies, cracking down on empathy and forcing everyone to be brutal turning each and everyone of her classmates into killing machines. She knew at that point that it was not for her, regardless of the intention of her father. She was immediately expelled and her father took care of the training.

Her father's too desperate to stop her training for the Games now and decides to train her instead. He goes from caring father one day to military marshal the next, always exerting Lily to the absolute limits. All for a good cause.

Her hands tremble some more, staring out the window, thinking about the Hunger Games. She's trained hard enough, maybe not as well as her shoddy third rate academy days, but her father had done his best with what he could afford. Years and years of training is bound to help and she should have nerves of steel, yet her hands continue to tremble and she doesn't think it's from the adrenaline anymore.

She braces herself, knowing full well that her father is about to burst through those white double doors any second now. She closes her eyes when it does open, white doors slamming against the wall rattling the various busts and paintings in the room.

Cristian Mendoza used to be a nice caring father; he still is, but he represses that to help out the family. He pushes past the various chairs and sofas in the room and grabs Lily by the shoulders, making sure to grip tight to emphasise his anger at her.

"WHY!?"

"I did what I thought was right." She said resolutely, disregarding the anger from his father's voice, who only scoffs and let's go of her.

He begins to pace the room, only moaning about the plan and how it's now ruined. His voice groaning as he rubs his head hard. She swears she could see a bit of tears entering his eyes. His words don't hurt her, she knows that he's only saying this out of anger; she did break the plan after all.

"I can do it." She speaks up, a seriousness to her voice. "I can win this."

"You had one year left." He speaks, a slight anger to his tone.

She looks at him with determination, a slight pout on her face and that's when her father sighs. He looks at her and Lily could tell that the tough exterior shell of his father is relaxing showing the one she loves the most; revealing his most vulnerable one.

There are days where she wonders what her father is thinking, whether he really wants her to go into the Hunger Games or not. She mentions it once or twice to him, but that only earns her nothing but a round of exercises and her father retreating back into that tough outer persona.

"Dad." She says holding her hand out to touch his face. "I can do this, for mom."

She swears there's a flash of smile on his face, but it changes quickly back to his stern look, frowning once again. He nods his head, coming in for an embrace, his big hands holding onto her head, cradling it one last time, possibly, and goes to kiss her forehead.

"I've already lost one daughter, I don't want to lose another." He gets up to leave once he says that, leaving his daughter to stare after him and she is once again alone when the door softly shuts.

She's back to her thoughts, the silence helping her think straight. Her mind drifting back to her mother, the accident and how Lily watches as her mother slowly slip further into depression, locking her as well as the rest of the world out.

She bites on her thumb as she fiddled with her hair, braided with flowers intertwined in them. Flowers, something she loves since she first saw one. Her name sake as well as her sister's, Iris, who she could barely remember.

She moves from fiddling with her hair to the necklace around her neck, a seashell necklace that she receives from her friend. That's when she finds her resolve once more, her worries fading away now as she watches Coryne Fisher enter the room.

She softens up, a smile appearing on Lily's face as best friend rushes towards her with a hug. She's a lot less explosive than her father for sure but make no mistake Coryne is as tough as she is. They look at each other for a few minutes before sitting down, a hand holds onto Lily's tightly.

"I can't ever repay you." She says. "You know that, right?"

"Seeing you safe and happy is payment enough."

Coryne smiles, Lily knows her best friend well enough that the girl is beating herself up about the situation. It's not everyday you volunteer to save your best friend after all. "Please don't blame yourself, Cory. Remember I did this to myself."

She nods. "How will you do it? What's your strategy?"

That's something she has been thinking about ever since standing on that stage. Her district partner she already disregards, Merrick Riviera, some shoddy, arrogant fifteen-year-old thinks that he could win the Games. Statistics aren't in his favour; therefore the odds aren't in his favour.

The only tribute that had won at his age was Adlay Durum, the Nine victor but that was over two decades ago now, things are different. The Games are a lot more different now, alliances and traps and all sorts have been introduced since that year.

"Well there's a new dynamic growing in the last couple of years," she starts. "I'm planning on joining the alliance between One and Two, I'm strong and capable. I can do it."

"I don't doubt that one bit." Her friend smiles at her. "Well when it comes down to it, give them hell."

"Thanks." She smiles, feeling the tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

"Don't cry," Croyne says. "Because I will too…"

Lily goes in for a hug, she embraces her friend tightly. She could feel the droplet of wet tears at the back of her white shirt, making it damp. She couldn't help it, tears flow down her face and onto her friend's as well. She hates how easy it is for her to cry, her father thinks it's a weakness and she agrees wholeheartedly but sometimes its good to show emotion.

She ignores the message floating around her head, in her father's voice as she goes to hug him tightly. She is trained and is competent but there's a nibbling thought in the back of her saying she's not good enough.

Could she be doubting herself?

No, she can't afford to do that, she has to do it, for her mother, it's a matter of life and death; literally. "Go, and be with your family, just stay safe."

She smiles at Coryne, who just nods, wiping the tears under her eyes. Lily does the same before they nod at each other, Lily watching Coryne leave her alone in the big room, with nowhere to run.

Not like she'd be doing any of that.

* * *

**A/N - Hi, hello!**

**Sorry for the super late update, there's no reason, I was just too lazy to get a move on and too tired to try and type. I can't set deadlines properly, because I just put it off completely. :V**

**Anyway, I'm back and hopefully I'll be more consistent with the updates. Here we have the next four tributes, which actually completes all district tributes having a POV.**

**Out of all the people introduced, which one is your favourite and which one are you eyeing for death? I thank you all for putting up charts in the review, and for reviewing! It makes my day reading reviews, but it's totally understandable if you can't or don't want to, I'm much the same myself. I'm also trying to get a hand of the word count problem I'm having, it's escalating quite a lot. .**

**The tributes introduced are as follows:**

**D1 - Carnelian Wolfe  
D2 - Diana Grey  
D3 - Mari Caresse Katou  
D4 - Lily Mendoza  
D5 - Shade Grimoire  
D6 - Chevelle Wheeler  
D7 - Magdalene Juniper  
D8 - Lonan Baze  
D9 - Rye Durum  
D10 - Gharial Rivers  
D11 - Ashley Allspicer  
D12 - Albin Cimber**

**So who are you rooting for so far? Who do look forward to reading about from the next set of twelve tributes, from first impressions?**

**What do you think of my erratic update schedule? I want to say that the Pre-pre games would be finished by July or August, then the fun begins. I want to pace myself to avoid burnout. I still have one more Reaping/Goodbye chapter to write and then two train chapters.**

**I want to try and be more consistent and any tips from writers would be great.**

**See you on the next update!**

**~Alec**


	9. Chapter 4: Believing Despair

_"When a man is in despair, it means that he still believes in something."  
~Dmitri Shostakovich_

* * *

_**Zhi Penn Lu, 16, District Three**_

* * *

Early morning in Three is often praised for its quiet nature that slowly grow louder and louder into a crescendo of busy bodies. The sounds of cars and people as they begin their work day, may that be of happiness or some other emotion all together.

That's exactly why Zhi Penn Lu, son of the current mayor, love about the early mornings of Three. He walks casually within the cracked streets of his district, the pavement damp from yesterday's downpour. There's an almost happy step to his feet, the white bag he holds within his hands rustle with the wind as it hits him.

His closest friend, Lectro Cowell, however, is not as happy having been awake a good hour or so now. His general happy demeanour is grumpy as he trails behind his best friend. He tries his best to catch up but the impending yawn stops him and Zhi could only look back with a sorry smile.

"Tell me why we went to the bakery at such a stupid time again?" Lectro says as Zhi walks back to his friend, to stay with his pace.

"Well I had some spare money, and I thought it would be a good idea to buy some bread to share with the people."

"Was this your mother's idea to gain votes?"

"No." He says with a shake of his head. "Hardly any of the people in this quarter know my face and name. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do."

"Right…" He could see him roll his eyes and Zhi continues to smile.

His friend has always been a bit of the shallow side, never mind that Zhi had to trick the poor boy into thinking they would be going out to meet some of their friends before the actual Reapings. Giving back a little of his wealth to his district seems more important to him.

They approach a man sitting at the corner of the street, he takes a small bread roll and hands it to him, a smile on his face. The old man thanks him as he tucks in, Zhi already leaving before his friend can make any sort of snarky comment.

He doesn't quite understand why Lectro still tags along when he tells him of the idea, but he doesn't question it further. They continue to walk the streets of Quarter 2, impacted heavily by the district's greed, sending most of its inhabitants into poverty.

If handing out bits of food here and there would help brighten up their moods, especially on this day, the start of the Hunger Games, then he'll do anything and everything he can to help. He hands a loaf or two to a woman making her way home from the early markets.

He smiles and leaves her before he could hear her praises and thanks. He's not in it for that, he's not as shallow as his friend Lectro, who still tails him from behind like a stropping child. He's used to that, the way his friend acts when he dislikes something.

They've been friends forever, and Zhi had grown to tolerate the boy, enough to call him his friend and even a best friend. There's some in his social circle that are worst than Lectro, those he doesn't associate with, not that he has a choice in the matter; his mother tends to tell him families with a bad reputation and he has trusted his mother, despite being overbearing at times.

That's one of the reasons why he does this sort of charitable thing away from where they live or in the wealthier side of the district, away from his mother and father's prying eyes. With only Pixie, his sister, knowing of his escapades.

Because Lectro is right in saying that his mother would use this as a political statement, to further boost her poll numbers in order to stay the mayor of this district. That he has issues with, and he doesn't show or voice his opinions loudly in fear of his mother doing something to him, like keeping him on a tighter leash.

They cross over to Quarter 3, another part of the district totally ruined by the economy of Quarter 1 and 5, as well as the Central Business Area of Three. Although this one has more of a bad reputation because of the infamous Quarter 7, the black market of the district. He's never been in it, the border between Quarter 3 and 7 are heavily patrolled by Peacekeepers during the day, and that's no exception.

"Do you think we'll ever get there? You can use your mother's influence, I hear they have the best places for drinking." Lectro catches up with him, elbowing his side.

"I don't care about all that." He says getting slightly bothered by the prospect, he avoids the look from the Peacekeepers as he continues his daily deeds, handing another roll of bread to someone sitting by the sidewalk.

They move farther away, into the district, the tall buildings and factories closer to central Three disappearing behind derelict buildings, filled with cracks and soot and whatever else that comes from the eternal smoke that appears in the sky of Three.

Along with dilapidated houses, Zhi finds it hard not to avoid the looks of those without homes, as if they're judging him, someone wearing clothes that are pristine and without holes. He feels a sense of anxiety rise within him that he will just have to bear. He continues to smile and hand nearly the full bag of bread to some of the children rushing towards him.

"There you go guys, share it with everyone now." He says and from the corner of his eyes, he could see Lectro hand some as well, which makes him happy.

They spend maybe another hour walking and touring the third quarter, jumping over cracks on the pavement, avoiding the dark alleyways and the temptation to explore them all. Zhi knows better that his mother will turn this district upside down should he go missing.

"Should we head back?" Lectro asks looking at his watch, he looks at Zhi shifting from side to side waiting for the answer.

"There's still an hour left before my mother suspects that I've been gone for a while and begins to look for me." He replies and his friend huffs at that.

"I figured that your answer is going to be something like that." He says as he hands him his own bag, to Zhi's surprise there's a few rolls left in there too, he didn't anticipate him to actually participate that much. "I'll see you later, I have better things to do than waste my entire morning here."

Zhi just nods and watches as his friend disappears behind an abandoned building, back to the tall buildings and the ever reliable central. He just sighs to himself as he continues his good deed, his goal is to give at least another bag of rolls to those that want them.

It's hard to believe that only a few years ago he was just like his friend, not caring about the world around him, but something in his mind changed. Something kickstarted his uncaring attitude into that of a caring soul. His mindset changing for the better, he thinks.

He remembers the time where the Capitol gave his father a chance to travel the district, bringing him and Pixie into other districts. A grant was given to his father, an inventor, to see if he could tour the district and enrich his inventions.

What he saw during that week was what changed his view of Panem. Images of grotesque starving, skeletal citizens as they watch them walking their district. He shivers at the thought, men, women and even children, starvation and corruption take no prisoners is what he learned.

He had all the comfort he had back in his home, the mayoral residence, and be set for life even if his mother lost her position as mayor, and yet there are people that are starving, dying due to a multitude of factors.

Therefore, he decided from then on that he would help any in need, starting with his district. He wants to follow in his father and mother's footsteps. Take lead of his district whilst trying to improve everyone's quality of life. He wants to help people, with the intention of taking over his mother's position as mayor. Ambitious in its right but Zhi could think of nothing better than the opportunity to present itself to him.

He hands out more of the rolls on his way around the district, a perfect smile every time he hands a few rolls. His intent of handing them to the children becomes his priority as the time of the Reapings approach closer and closer.

He stops in his tracks when his pocket begins to vibrate and buzz, he takes a small phone in his pocket, enhanced by the inventors and technological geniuses of Three. He puts it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Zhi? Where are you?" Pixie, his sister is whispering in hush tones, faintly he could hear his mother in the background. "We're at the breakfast table, and you're still not here, you better come back before the Reapings or else mother will be very angry."

Zhi hears the line drop dead and he just sighs. It's a minor thin, but he decides that it's time to go back now, obeying his mother lest he comes under fire with questions. He'll need to think of a good lie, despite him not wanting to lie to his mother.

He makes his way underground, a subway station, despite being in one of the poor parts of the district, is still operational. Three does boast about its technological advancement, but Zhi wonders at what cost does it have to those in need.

He swipes the card in his pocket and hops right into a subway cart heading for the centre of Three. He struggles to find a seat, the carts already filling up with children already, those of reaping age are given free passes to travel to the Square by the government, to make the Reapings more seamless.

The seat he did find he gives away to an expectant mother as he stands with the other children, the cart rumbling as it passes by on the tracks. It screeches to a halt when they arrive at the centre, he hops off at this stop, the gentle voice of the PA announcing that the stop is close to the Justice Building.

He rushes home when he gets above ground, before his mother gets completely suspicious and begins to ask questions. He ditches the remaining bread rolls with a man on the street, beside the entrance of the subway station.

Fixing his clothes as he manoeuvres countless people in the busy centre, he arrives at the front gate of the mayoral house, just in time to see his mother and sister. They're standing waiting for their ride to the Justice Building, already ready for the Reapings. She looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"And where have you been, Zhi?" She asks with an accusing tone, scanning him up and down. "You missed breakfast."

"I had breakfast at Lectro's house." He says looking her in the eye, dark eyes meeting even darker ones.

He goes to give Pixie a hug, and all she does is wink at him. A secret between the two Lu siblings and a promise that his is safe with her and that their mother suspects nothing. He pulls away from the hug and mouths a 'thank you' to his sister before facing his mother again.

"There's an hour left before the Reapings truly start, so you go change and your father, sister and I will meet you after it, so we can all go home together." She says, matter-of-factly.

"Yes, mother." He says and she just smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaves when a sleek black car arrives, Pixie right behind her.

He rushes to his room when the care disappears from his view, wiping away any dirt or soot he had gathered on his face and arms from this morning. He goes back to his room, seeing the clothes his mother had picked for him; a white shirt accompanying a navy-blue tie with matching white stripes.

He puts it on, looking at the mirror with his black dress pants too. He puts on the rest of his clothing and begins to make his way to the Square, a mere twenty or so minutes' walk away from their home. He sees the difference from this morning, brightly coloured buildings, barely any cracks on pavements.

He rushes quickly tangling and mingling amongst the crowd gathering for the mandatory Reapings. The registration is short as he goes to stand beside his friend Lectro, amongst the sixteen-year-olds. He taps his shoulder and he look at him with a frown, still upset about this morning.

"Hey, if my mom asks later, I was at your house for breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah." He just shrugs.

They stand there listening to the escort drone on about how wonderful the Capitol is and with the efforts of Three made it shine even brighter in the recent years. All Zhi could think about is the images that has been circling his head, of the many people starving in his own district as well as others.

He doesn't seem to pay attention, as the escort makes her choice for the female tribute. She lifts it closer to her face, caked in makeup of all things. "The female tribute this year is…Mari Caresse Katou! What a wonderful name!"

There's a sudden moment where his world seems to shatter, someone this close to him has been reaped. He watches as the girl makes her way to the stage, looking strong for the many cameras that are pointing towards him. He could see that she's trying her best.

"It's okay darling." The escort smiles at her. "Let's see who will be joining you." Another piece of paper floats to her face when she makes it to the other side of the stage, a smile on her face still despite the anguish and crying that echoes in the Square already. "Zhi Penn Lu?"

She reads out his name and a collective shock and gasp fills the entire Square. His mother looks on, angry as she's about to object. There's Peacekeepers seem to stop her from standing as he begins to make his way to the stage, he rushes even more as he sees Mari breakdown into tears.

His face contorts to those of worry as he holds Mari closer to him in an embrace the moment he makes it to the stage. He could hear her sobs and the tears drenching his white shirt as he looks at the crowd.

He doesn't care, at this moment in time, about his name being called out for the Hunger Games. All he cares about just now is consoling Mari, a person so important to his sister, he's known her for so long that he considers her a very good friend and now the two of them can spend the last few weeks together.

* * *

_**Francesca Appiani, 18, District Eight**_

* * *

District Eight is small and poor, yet there are opportunities in every corner and in every walks of life that if sacrifices are made, and done correctly, then you can succeed and thrive in this district. So many of its citizens try to get ahead in life, but so many fail.

An insurgence of orphanages in Eight was the result of such success stories, parents abandoning their own children to better themselves, or to feed themselves and with the Hunger Games becoming a staple for the whole Panem then it only seeks to motivate their difficult choices.

That is one of the reasons as to why Francesca is here today. Abandoned by her parents all those years ago in one of the many orphanages that litter the district. Within rotting walls and creepy hallways, she spent most of her childhood staring at the walls, wondering If her parents will ever come back for her.

Growing up in the district is always described as opposite sides of the same coin, a coin flip that determines your role and place in Eight's society; a heads up or a tails down. Unfortunately for Francesca she lands on tails, down at the very bottom of society.

She had to make do with what little life had given her, spending so many years in the orphanage, sharing an already cramped room with several other children, all wondering when they'll escape this life they live, either through death or something better; lonely and scared, longing for the parents they never met.

Francesca, however, is not one that would remain stagnant for long, having spent nine years in the decaying house she grew up in, she leaves the home, running away from what fate had given her; instead deciding on her own destiny.

She could not look back, to what it was like before, gathering dust and other illnesses staying in that orphanage, quietly wasting away with no hope in sight. That wretched orphanage where the owners care very little due to the influx of children.

It's not easy, roaming the already vacant streets of Eight, a true struggle and divide within Eight meant that no one is around to even steal from, with the occasional markets opening up in the centre of the district.

She spends most of her time in the streets in the three months she was alone. Looking for opportunities to steal even to just feed herself. Learning the hard way, pickpocketing first off, before moving on to stealing outright. She did everything she could to survive and thankful that she didn't die in some alleyway.

Still, she could not believe in herself that three months is all she managed before she was caught, not by Peacekeepers, but by some man she tried to pickpocket in one cold winter's day. She thought at first that it was over, she's going to die now, the nature of kill or be killed in the back of her mind.

That's when Matthias Estridsen took her in, the man she tried to pickpocket had taken her in, after three months in streets. He made her life better, in a way that she had shelter and food at least one times a day. Her nature of pickpocketing and stealing still ingrained in her, however.

Fast forward nine more years Francesca, now eighteen, sit at the dinner table of their tiny apartment. She smiles at the life she achieves, gone are the days where she would steal everyday just to survive.

Now she has a stable job, at a textile factory, five years strong now. Working her way up the ladder, totally spinning her fate and bettering herself. Her fondness for her work in fixing machinery, then to operations helps in her numerous promotions.

It's a hot summer's day, her age means that she has the option of not coming into work, not that anyone would argue, she's one of the managers now in that small factory that she works in. They're doing nothing both her and Matthias, just lounging around as the heat invades their tiny apartment.

A rundown apartment near the factory, with vines and moss creeping up the sides and invading the small cracks. Soot covered alleyways close by providing shortcuts for those cunning and sneaky enough, windows smudged with the same dirt from time immemorial.

"Here's to a slightly easier life." Matthias says as he sits down with two glasses of wine.

"There's nothing easy in this world." She replies, almost in a deadpan manner but comes off in a sarcastic manner.

She toasts anyway, watching the dark red liquid slosh in the glass. The bottle of wine sitting in between them, in which she can neither confirm or deny stealing from one of her escapades last week.

Not that she couldn't afford a decent bottle of wine; old habits die hard it seems as she sips a bit of the bittersweet liquid, slightly burning her throat. She has no experience drinking alcohol of any kind, but it is a celebration after all; that she is now eighteen, the last year before she is free from the Reapings.

The only condition that's stopping her dreams, that she is still of Reaping age. You can only advance so much when you're in that age range, a glass ceiling stopping you from reaching for the skies and grabbing the stars that she once wished upon.

Another sip of the drink and she feels its effects already, a slight smile on her face. She imagines the thrilling sensation of stealing in her head, a brief and slight elation in her spirits sending whatever chemicals from her brain to her whole body.

Yet, she denies liking it entirely, just the addictive feeling lingers with years upon years of doing something like this. Her confidant and brother-like figure in Matthias didn't help in that situation. Matthias is a conman by trade, always on the scope of the next heist, small jobs in which they come away slightly richer.

Her mind goes over to the Hunger Games again with the Reapings in less than an hour or so. Her last year would go smoothly, she'll stand with her head in the clouds, paying no one in mind in particular, listening to the speeches and lament at the selected tributes.

She'll go home after that, with Matthias, and might even get a few coins on the way home, if the crowd is busy enough. That's what they always did after every safe Reapings, a sort of tradition between the two of them forming all these years.

"To your last Reapings." Matthias snaps her thoughts into reality and she smiles and clinks their glasses together, the sound gives off sweet vibrations in her ears.

She could not believe that only nine years ago she was stuck in that orphanage, gathering dust, rotting away with everyone else, like the furniture she shared with so many kids; no hope of ever being adopted.

To this day she could not thank Matthias enough for all his help, everything he's done for her has been for the better. Not only him, but the other important person in her life, Violet Corduroy. A person she remembers fondly.

She remembers the day she met the older woman, cold winters night, following Matthias home to the outer reaches of the district. Someone she had never met before, gave her all the kindness only someone of pure heart could give. Violet had all the warmth in the world, something she had never felt in her life.

She owes them both her life and more. That's why Francesca has been so concerned for her future ever since she keeps getting these promotions at her work. She currently lives a comfortable life, but the opportunist in her knows she can do way better and improve her life even more.

"I should get ready for the Reapings," she says looking at the clock above the doorway to her room. "I'll just meet you after the Reapings like always?"

"Just by the stairs of the stage?" He says finishing off the red wine and placing the glass on the wooden table.

She only nods as she stands, not even finishing the wine she was given. She smiles softly whilst making her way to her room. Getting ready for her last appearance at the Capitol before she blends into the mundane.

As she gets ready, she thinks again of her future. Waiting for the right idea to pop into her head, to come to her in a dream or something; to be able to pitch it forward and be successful, a way to revolutionize Eight. Either that or she finds a rich and wealthy man to marry. She's not beyond something like that, she does want to fall in love.

She will do anything in her power to succeed at that, if not to repay her debts to Violet and Matthias, who she now views as her family more than anyone else in her eighteen years of living in this district.

She feels a sense of belonging with them, unlike the nine years in the orphanage. A smile appears on her face, soft and uncaring now that she's ready. A beige dress, flowy and free falling, breezy enough for the summer heat, ready for her last appearance as a tribute.

She walks out of her room, white flats around her feet. Quiet and unimposing, perfect for their 'after Reaping' pickpocketing. She grabs onto her matching coloured scarf, in case it gets colder later and she makes her way to the Square.

Matthias leaves a note for her, wishing her a good luck. She smiles at that and goes to the front door. It's only a short walk to the Square. One of the only good thing in Eight is that buildings and the general area is compacted, filled with terraced apartments and factories, warehouses and alleyways; anyplace can be reached within minutes, if you know the right places.

She makes it early this way, registering and watching as the rest of the district file their way in front of the Square, surrounding the children with their tired eyes and heavy hearts. The escort, by the name of Gabriel Grader, soon starts things off as the mayor finishes their speech.

Everyone's eyes are now on the man, dressed relatively smart in his suit, a small smile on his face as he praises the Capitol for another year of blessings. He mobilises to the end of the stage, where the bowl that holds her name is.

His calm nature plucks a white sliver of paper and reads the name, first to himself, before making his way centre stage and announces the name for the world. "Our female tribute this year is Francesca Appiani!"

She breathes out and then her breathing hitches, her eyes now as wide as saucers. She feels a deep clench in her heart and she finds it hard to breathe all of a sudden. She can't move; it feels like her legs are made of stone all of a sudden as the Peacekeepers come and help her to the stage.

Gabriel, who was looking for her earlier, gives a round of applause, either to break the tension or to distract himself and everyone else away from her. He then proceeds to go to the other side to pick the male tribute.

Although she doesn't care as her mind goes blank, the fear and shock creeping up her leg freezing her whole body. Tears prickling her eyes and streaming down her face, not even noticing the boy that tries and attempt to shake her hand.

Nothing in her head is working at this moment in time. Her dreams shattering into a million pieces already. The fate that she tries her hardest to breakaway from always coming back to drag her down. Her mind goes into a blur now as she goes inside the Justice Building.

* * *

_**Antonio Barracks, 18, District Two**_

* * *

It's sunny, a breeze going through the city houses and through the open windows in the Justice Building. District Two is celebrating another successful Reaping with two tributes willing to fight it off to the death, all for the glory of Two.

Antonio Barracks is one of those tributes waiting in the wings in the Justice Building after volunteering for the Hunger Games. His peers from the academy of Gladius all commending him, and even cheering him on as he ascended to the stage.

In fact the whole district cheers, the concept of the Hunger Games now ingrained in everyone's mind and heart, willing to send a willing sacrifice for a chance of improving the district. With six victors to their name, and everyone still reeling off the win from Adrestia Stark two years ago, everyone is ready for another victor. However, Anotnio, or Tony to his friends, have a different idea in his mind.

There's too much pressure for him to win, to bring back the mantle of victor once again to his district; his dad and the academy included in all that. He remembers only ten or so minutes ago how the victors running Gladius Academy look at him with pride on their faces.

He likes the academy well enough, it has been a home away from home; and even argue that it's more home than his actual home life. If given the choice, he would pick Gladius over his home any day, with no hesitation. The bruising on his arms and those that hide underneath his black training shirt is obvious enough to see why Tony hates his homelife.

He suffers through them though, reminding him that each countless beating is something to strengthen himself with, a way to make his skin tougher. A way to mask his obvious pain into that of cool indifference that he is now known for by his peers.

His father, Tybalt, is one of those parents that believe that punishment is a good enough reason to toughen their children for the Hunger Games. A suitable excuse for a father so far into his own delusions, born from the separation with his own wife.

Tony doesn't remember when the first punch was thrown or where, but he knows that it all stems from his mother leaving his father on his second birthday. Something caused his mother to leave Tybalt, and Toby doesn't remember what it was, he attests it to the fact that his father is not a very nice man.

Blaming the child is cliché, surely, but behind closed doors, away from their friendly neighbour's eyes is a good time and place to abuse your child. A way to release the stress of your job, and a way to unleash the anger you hold for your wife; all on your only child.

His father owns a business that provides the district of builders. A stressful job, for sure, but doesn't give the excuse of beating up one's child because of personal reasons. Tony, as child, back then could not retaliate, he can't fight back the very strong and muscular person that his father was.

As he sits down on one of the smaller lounge chairs of the grey covered rooms of the Justice Building, he rethinks his reasoning for volunteering. A way to escape his life back in Two, away from his peers; from his abusive father; from the overbearing trainers of Gladius; just away from everyone.

Volunteering to get away from the chaotic lifestyle that has always been there into something simple and clean. He shakes his head thinking that it's going to ramp up even more, it's not going to be simple at all, and far from clean.

The grey carpet looks pristine looking untouched despite being used year after year for the Reapings and transfixes Tony's hazel ones; at least for now it's nice and quiet. A moment to enjoy the calm, away from the cheering crowds outside, which is still going on, the after Reaping parties are going to be held soon, something he avoids whenever he is invited.

If there's one thing he'll enjoy, it's that his father will not be visiting him. Tybalt had said his goodbyes through a drunken demeanour the night before, admitting to his son that he was glad that he's volunteering, that it would make a real man out of him, alive or dead.

Tony remembers exiting the house angry after that, the cool night air hitting him in the face like a ton of bricks. How angry he was at his father, and how much he wanted to kill him there and then, but instead he spends the night at the academy dorms, which is why his dark hair is messy, and him wearing his training uniform instead of something more presentable.

He scoffs at the memory, scrapping it in the back of his mind and stands up when his friends walk through the door. He doesn't have much in the way of friends, always turning people away in case his father finds more ammunition to hurt him later on.

However, these three sticks to him through thick and thin. Never leaving his side the moment he meets with them. Gladius Academy, and its many victors, have always held Tony to a higher regards, and therefore many people come to him just to befriend him, but his general personality of wanting to be left alone always stops that.

Naomi goes for a hug first, Tony noticing she lingers longer than you would normally with an average hug. He stiffens up momentarily before relaxing when she starts to speak, thankful that he's not attracted to her in a the slightest. "I'm going to miss you so much! I wish I was up there with you today."

Her frown is genuine and Tony sighs and returns the hug before pulling away completely. Naomi Whit was so sure that she would become the female tribute for these Hunger Games, and she was the second best in Gladius, but the girl from the Peacekeeper Training Academy volunteered first and actually beat her to the punch.

Diana Grey, he doesn't know very well, or at all. However, her confident outlook and firm handshake with a curt smile says a lot, all in an extravagant black dress to boot. This gives him a lot of problems, for Toby too thought that he would be teaming up with Naomi, instead Diana is going to be his district partner.

He knows Naomi, her weaknesses and her quirks. He knows that she trusts him completely and him with her. He knows the normally confident Naomi would try to volunteer despite the instructions not to, but it seems she backed away for some reason.

Now him and Diana are on the same stage, so to speak; an equal standing with each other, having to learn everything about each other from the start, what makes each other tick, their preference in weapons and strategies. The only idea each have over the other is how their academies operate.

The Nut and it's training academy are often mysterious, rarely letting their cadets volunteer for the Hunger Games, but their tributes are always calculating and level headed. With that information running through his mind, he can assume the same for Diana.

"You'll be brilliant, as always." Naomi says enthusiastically, going in to hug his arm as she says that.

He manages a smile and trying to snake the arm away from her to look towards his other friends. Ivor Darrow looks at him intently, the normally carefree guy is coated green with envy, much like his eyes. He changes expression really quickly and gives him a small smile in return of his own.

"Yeah, you'll be great out there." Short and sweet, that's all he could say despite knowing him the longest of the three friends.

Tony's heart seems to crack and breaks, not able to control this situation enough, the awkwardness in the air growing thick and heavy. "Hey, we should be celebrating, right?"

Lewis Sayre, the smart one of the group, a year younger than them all, is trying to cut the tension with a knife, trying his best to break it up. He fixes his glasses and Tony looks at him with a 'thank you' before he nods slowly.

"Yeah!" Naomi says, unaware of the tension altogether.

He ignores Naomi and instead looking at Ivor again, the boy that's usually really happy illuminated by the light from the window, making him breath taking. The boy he has known since they were toddlers, look so different now, stronger and more attractive; however there's something wrong and he doesn't know what.

He appreciates Lewis enough for breaking the tension, his next-door neighbour with his wild brown hair and large glasses make him look way younger than he looks. He likes him enough to let him hang around him, the boy bullied in Gladius for being one of the weakest; he empathised with him, knowing full well what it's like to have a bully. He soon befriends the boy when he stands up to one his bullies.

Tybalt calls him a pansy and all sorts of names, but Tony always takes care of him, and is always there to defend the boy. Which obviously earns him a bit more bruising that night or day, whenever the man had time.

"Thanks Lewis." He says to him with a smile. "So what's your plan now guys?"

"Go to business school." Ivor says. "Got to start somewhere, right? I could train kids part-time at the academy, besides who'll look after this kid."

He playfully punches Lewis, who feigns hurt as everyone laughs; only Tony smiles, rarely does he ever feel like laughing, and smiling is the best most can get out of him nowadays. The tension is dissipating now and Tony already feels like he's back in the academy.

"I'm going to stay in Gladius." He says, despite being one of the worst students in the academy. "Then the possibility is endless after that."

"Well I'll be there too, as a full-time trainer, so you're safe from anymore of those bullies young Lewis." She winks at him.

He's happy for them all, he really is, but he can't help but feel that some of their dreams are a bit too much, in this day and age. Realistically, business school is hard to get into without the proper knowledge, and all Gladius ever thought anyone is basic Arithmetic and English, instead focusing on training for the Hunger Games; he doesn't think Ivor would have the grades to get into school.

They don't know what's coming in the next couple of years, with a new president, the districts are up in the air about everything right now. Tony doesn't even know if the academy will be there for everyone in the next couple of years should things go wrong.

They talk a bit more, that for now it's only goodbye and they'll see him again soon, either alive or in a box, mutilated or a badly patched version of a human. He says his goodbyes to each of them, before they all return to their loving families.

He walks with them to the door, he holds Ivor's green eyes longer than a moment, then he nods a silent, "Don't die," before he leaves escapes the boy's lips and then the door closes; leaving Tony on his own again, releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding.

His heart is beating really fast again, thinking of Ivor, an unhealthy infatuation that he tries to bury deep inside of him, bury deep into his heart. His normal unwavering, unemotional face is now replaced with worry, something to impede his thought process.

He doesn't normally hang around with his friends outside of academy time, declining every opportunity he had been given, but somehow, he wanted to do all that with Ivor, maybe even more. Cursing himself that he never truly admitted his feelings for the boy, and that he may never have another chance. He slaps his face a few times to wake himself up from this infatuation, from this daze he had put himself into; trying to get out of his own delusionary mind.

"Tony?"

He turns quickly to see his own mother, Victoria, standing by the door, a worry to her face. Tony feels himself retract in his shell at the thought of someone seeing him in such a state. He steps back as she walks closer to him, his face avoiding her own. She frowns and backs away slightly.

"What do you want?" He wants to apologise to her, but all that comes out is that question, seeing her flinch slightly as he continues to avoid her gaze.

They're not really close, only talking occasionally when both had the time, she doesn't seem to react to the bruises he would have from time to time, around his arms or on his face, but in truth he didn't expect for her to care either.

"I…I just wanted to say goodbye." She says.

"Thanks." He sighs inwardly at how cold he's being to someone showing the least bit of respect to him.

"I got you this." She says softly. "A goodbye present from me."

She hands him a small rough-cut Garnet, coloured the same as his own eyes. He holds it tight in his fist, looking at it intently as his mother goes in for a hug; his form unmoving despite the tightness of the hug he is feeling.

She says her goodbye once more and leaves the room, leaving him in the grey coloured room, that now expresses his mood; back to being alone with his thoughts, nothing but his loner self along with the gemstone he holds in his hand.

After all this years, sixteen years, he had thought that she cares very little for him, but the stone he holds in between his forefinger and thumb shines dully in the light convinces him entirely. A genuine smile appears on his face, as he holds it closer to his heart, feeling the warmth behind the gesture.

* * *

_**Tey Antracit, 15, District Twelve**_

* * *

"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,  
lavender's green,  
When I am king, dilly, dilly,  
you shall be queen…"

District Twelve, for all it's soot and coal covered population could be tightknit at times. People, especially children, tend to congregate together in solidarity, to support one another in times of hardships, and Twelve has had a few shares of hardships in its lifetime.

Tey is never one for crowds, although that decision is always made for her, ever since that particular incident that skewed her mind slightly, forgetting and remembering things at the wrong times. She's never been one for social interactions.

So, that's why she's here, surrounded by white furniture devoid of any form of black coal dust, which she is so used to. Trying to comprehend what is happening right now, her mind working double time to try and process what is going on.

Her voice is faltering, but yet she continues to sing. Brushing her hair through with her hand, blonde locks curly as the day she was born. The sweet song echoes in the white big room, just the walls repeating her lovely song, something she sings whenever she is anxious.

She stops her singing and humming when her mother bursts through the door, tears falling heavily from her eyes, streaming down her face as she goes in to hug her daughter. Distraught all over her face as Tey is only happy that her mother has come along to get her.

Tey doesn't really get why her mother is crying, the poor girl dragged into the Hunger Games, an almost unideal outcome and her mother knows that full well, this is why she weeps now for her, as she will need to be strong in the time to come.

The girl backs away, now looking at her mother that's still sobbing onto her hands, she had stopped her signing entirely, her mind racing with things to try and cheer up her mother. She goes in for another hug, because her mind tells her that hugs are normally a good feeling, Tey hugs her mother tightly, with the question popping in her head as to why she's in this clean white room.

"Oh, poor child." Her mother whispers to her daughter, the only other person in her life.

"What do you mean, mom?" She asks. "Are we going somewhere? Are we going to make more dresses later?" The idea excites the girl, the prospect of dresses jolts Tey into a frenzy of smiles, but her mother says something different.

"Not today, darling, although I hear the Capitol has lots of dresses…"

"The Capitol? Surely we're not rich enough to go there." She tells her mother, a slight tilt of her head, "By the way, the man earlier was very nice to me!"

"Man? You mean Mr. Ogden?"

"Is that his name? I forgot already."

She laughs to herself, and her mother just smiles, the gesture not reaching her eyes at all, thinking that what her daughter doesn't know is better in the long run, there's a small tear that runs down her cheek landing on Tey's soft white dress.

She sighs as she sits on one of the white sofas, Tey following suit and sitting beside her mother, a full smile on her face now that she had the Capitol in her head. Tey wonders what's wrong, her mother is not her usual chipper self and that worries her slightly.

She decides against it, thinking that she's just crying happy tears at the fact that they might be going to the Capitol. Her mind thinking of all the dresses that she can try on and possibly design, her mind races to all sorts of dresses, the ones that her mother says is waiting for her at the Capitol.

She looks around the room, white and barren, in some form it sorts of matches her dress. Simple looking with very few designs and patterns to it. A few seats here and there, portraits of people she doesn't know in every wall she looks at, and a fireplace bringing about the only other colour in the room.

There's a sense of wonder still as she gets up to explore the room, watching and observing when she reaches the window, viewing the Square, mirroring the room they are in now, barren. The people that were outside have all gone home, having made their peace with the chosen.

However, Tey remembers very little of what transpired before now, and already she doesn't mind at all. All her memories blend into one most days, and instead of trying to understand it, she just leaves it. A brief memory of a boy with dark hair and deep blue eyes, like the sky closer to night time is all she can remember. The way they shook hands, him looking tough and fierce, devoid of any other emotion, despite her still signing.

That's when that Louis Ogden takes her into the Justice Building, almost hugging her as he sits with her on one of the sofas, her voice unrelenting with the words to her song. He sits with her for a while, before leaving over some Capitol business.

The door opens to a small child, dark hair and green eyes, dressed smartly despite not being of reaping age. "Dolly!" Tey rushes towards her friend, giving her a very big and tight hug, laughing along the way. "Did you hear? I'm going to the Capitol to fix…um, something…"

"Dresses, dear." Tey's mother pipes up with that smile of hers, with the Tey forgetting she's even here.

"Really!?" Tey raises her voice to one of pure joy.

She jumps up and down at the revelation once more, her mother and her friend Dolly doesn't seem to mind, even though the younger of the two already knows what's going on. She just smiles supportively as Tey apologises for her behaviour.

"That's why I'm here to say goodbye." She said, trying her best to be positive but the tone in her voice is almost sad.

"Oh. Well I won't be long. Just, like, a couple of days." She smiles at her friend.

"Yeah…" She starts to tear up, the girl that helps Tey with everything, taking her to school and back, protecting her from any social interactions and even teaching her at times, defending her from people that would otherwise turn away from her aloof ways.

"I'll bring something home for you!"

"That'll be great." She says, smiling and hugging her before exiting the room again, the interaction brief but much needed. Dolly disappearing out of her view and could be out of her life all together.

"She seemed sad." She frowns, and her mother was crying again, she rushes forward, sitting beside her crying mother once more. "Oh no! Don't cry, mom. I'll only be gone for a few days!" she says worrying for her mother.

"Yes, you're right dear." She presents her with a small smile. "It's just that we haven't been separated like this ever, it's just hard for a mother."

Tey nods, understanding the situation. Her head flicks to the door again when it begins to squeak open, a Peacekeeper enters the room, white uniform completely blending with the room, obscuring his helmetless head.

Tey quietens down a little bit and hides behind her mother, an instinctive feeling in her mind telling her to hide away from this man. To avoid the man that is crouching to her eye level. He puts the helmet down on the carpeted floor, his gloved hands going through his hair, matted down by summer sweat from the sun.

He approaches slowly, Tey's mother unmoving as she knows who he is, truly. "It's alright, Tey." Her mother says to her. "He's a friend; his name is Glas."

"Nice to finally meet you," he says with a small smile on his face, his bright green eyes meet jade coloured circles, curiosity on her face. "I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" She asks, leaving the comfort of her mother's protection to approach the man, cautiously as she can.

She reaches out for him, the man staying completely still. She touches his hair, blonde locks, the same as hers, and curly. She figures it's rare for those to have blonde locks in the district, her mother's own ones are dark brown in colour.

"You love dresses, right?" He says not bothering about the fascination the girl has with his head.

"Oh yeah! You do know about me!"

"I hear the Capitol has lots of them."

Whereas the Peacekeeper is smiling with joy in front of Tey, her mother looks on in disbelief that the man, the one that denies any involvement with Tey is there right now. The one that did not want to be part of the family, is right here now without even a second thought.

"Are you going to show me?"

"I will." A lie, her mother is sure of it. "In fact it's nearly time to go to the Capitol now."

"I'll need to say goodbye to my mom first."

"I'll give you two a little time." He smiles at her and then at her mother, before going to stand by the door.

"Listen, dear, behave yourself when you're there, okay? Find lots of friends and do whatever they say, okay?"

"Yes, mom." She smiles. "I'll miss you when I go."

"Me too, baby, me too…" She goes in for one last embrace, tighter than before, trying her best not to cry anymore, but she feels tears pricking her eyes as they betray her confidence dropping onto the white dress once more.

"Time to go." Glas says, apologetically as he looks at Tey's mother.

"You take care of her." She says to Glas standing resolutely, a strong tone of voice coming from the woman.

"You know I always do…Lamia." He smiles before the door opens and he escorts Tey out of the room, leaving Lamia by herself, alone in the white void of a room.

Nothing but the fear and overwhelming dread creeping up her skin to keep her company now that her only daughter is gone.

* * *

**A/N - And the goodbyes are finished, another long chapter! I don't want to give anyone false hope and continually pump out long chapters, so just be warned if the jump to the next chapter is shorter than previous chapters. Inconsistencies are my thing.**

**Anyway, thank you to those who took time to review and give me their insights to the characters. I ask you do the same for these four, or don't I'm not bothered.**

**I will admit that I had trouble with Tey's bit, it's more dialogue heavy, and the length suffers as a result. The song I used was 'Lavender's Blue' in Tey's narrative, it says on her form that she sings songs when she's under a lot of stressed, and after looking at so many nursery rhymes and lullabies, I found this one to be the best****.**

** I love all the tributes so far, and it's finally so much fun being able to write again!**

**So out of these guys, who do you love? Who do you not love? What will Zhi and Mari do now that they're both in the Hunger Games? Will Francesca make it far with an already unfair lifestyle? What do you think of Tony's infatuation with his long time friend? And how many dresses will Tey try on? (But also will she be stable enough for the Games?)**

**Stay tuned for the next tentative chapters, which I think will come out either at the end of this month or start of next month.**

**~Alec**


	10. Chapter 5: For Your Own Sake

_"Life is just like this. Just give up gracefully. It's for your own sake"_  
_~Digging Holes, Amazarashi_

* * *

_**Cyrus Sunbeam, 15, District Six**_

* * *

He dares not think about the fiasco that was the Reapings. The people in the Capitol might think him unemotional or something as he watched the shocked faces of his fellow citizens of Six without so much of a reaction in himself.

There's something about how they still feel the shock factor of the Hunger Games, despite it being an annual thing for close to thirty years now. Nevertheless the people of Six stand with a mixture of emotions as two more of their own are sent to the Hunger Games, never to be seen again.

That's what they think, or at least what Cyrus Sunbeam wants them to think. Unemotional, when in truth, his mind went blank totally no thoughts coming into his head, body going into autopilot as he makes his way to the stage.

It's not until he got to the stage that his trance state ended and he analysed the situation; of the shocked faces and he tried to stay rational and calm despite the circumstance he was in. At that point he decided that he wanted to win the Hunger Games, even if his chances were slim.

Despite all that, it's still a different feeling to anything he had felt in that moment in time, or in all of his life. The way his heart started beating fast all of a sudden as he shook hands with his district partner and then being escorted into the Justice Building.

When he was left alone in that room, inside the shining Capitol instated building he wanted to trash the place. To break everything that's in that room, the feeling of dread feeding his mind as it piled up with each step, tempting him into doing such acts, even if it's out of character for him.

His own desires to make things better didn't help in that moment in time; there's nothing in his limited repertoire that would help him out of the situation he was stuck in. The humming of the train as it quietly zooms towards the Capitol is proof of that.

What he would give to be in his own home right now, just relaxing with a good mechanic book that he had borrowed from the local library, or given to him by the nearby garages that he hangs about in.

He misses the sounds of the city already, the bustling citizens making their way loudly towards wherever they wanted to go, or the sounds of factory whistles signalling either the start or end of something; even the sounds of the trains as they make their way to and from the Hub of the district.

His minds soon wander again to his friends, reminiscing about the both of them. Cassadane and Koresh he would consider his best friends, and his eternal amusement as the two of them had obvious feelings for each other.

His need to fix things were always active whenever all three of them are together, his wanting for them to stay together despite denying their own feelings both frustrated and amused Cyrus to the point that his heart aches for them both, even now as he sits on the table in one of the train compartments.

All he really wants is to lock himself in his own room again, but the escort, Charles Rumming, as nice as the man is, drags him out of his room and into the dining room of the train, to maybe talk and get to know everyone.

"So when we get to the Capitol you're going to meet up with your stylist…"

The man's slightly perky voice snaps him out of his thinking as Charles looks at the golden pocket watch he always holds. It glistens in the dull yellow light of the chandelier hanging in the middle of the train compartment.

Speaking of, the carriage is huge, covered floor to ceiling in extravagance, even more extravagant than the Justice Building he wanted to break apart only a few hours earlier. If he estimates correctly, then it's bigger than both his room and living room all together.

"Are you guys listening to me?" Charles asks the room.

Cyrus stays quiet, looking directly at the white tablecloth, not a crease in sight. No dirt or anything, he's almost afraid to touch it in case his grubby hands mess it up completely. He looks across towards Charles, his brown hair slicked to the side and his eyes glow a brilliant yellow, very unnatural.

"Well anyway, the stylist must have something wonderful for you two to wear, and myself and Dash will come and watch you as the Tribute Parade begins!" He exclaims, putting the pocket watch inside his jacket pocket. "Now if only Dash can come and make an appearance…"

He's half listening to him at this point, ignoring the older man in favour of his own curiosity. An itch he's beginning to get as the urge to explore the entirety of the train creeps up from his feet all the way to his head.

It must be a complex creation, he wants to go to the front of the train and see the machinery of it all and question the conductor on how it all works. Whether it's powered by electricity or something else completely.

His mind and fingers seem restless now as the urge begins to intensify, totally not listening to the escort about the schedule they must follow. It's the same feeling as not being able to come and visit the garage he frequents and not being able to smell the faintest odour of oil and gasoline.

"So when is the mentor getting here?" Chevelle Wheeler, his designated district partner speaks up from her sit opposite him and that garners his attention again, forgetting about his intense feeling of wanting.

She's impassive, or from what she looks to him anyway, thin frame and big blue eyes that show the same feeling as he's feeling: boredom. Although it's not entirely boredom, there's a hint of curiosity hidden in those eyes, and he can't help but feel that way too now.

Despite interrupting the escort's ramblings, Charles just smiles. "He's otherwise indisposed, from the looks of things," a lousy excuse if Cyrus has anything to say about it.

"Then how do you expect us to survive in the Hunger Game?" She says with a huff, folding her arms, still wearing the leather jacket she wore hours earlier at the Reapings, she flashes Cyrus a look, to which he flinches before returning her gaze to the white tablecloth.

"All will be revealed in time," Charles says to them both with a wag of his fingers first at Chevelle, who just rolls her eyes and then to Cyrus who looks away from it. "We've only just left District Six about an hour ago!"

That's true, however, it feels like it's been days already. The sun is still bright yellow in the sky, or from what he could see past the blur of forestry and the occasional barren fields. That's another thing he wants to do, stare out the window and admire the vast spaces that separate the districts. The sun, despite being a bright yellow still, is ready to turn orange at the sign of evening, the clouds handing it over to the moon, the blistering heat they have all experienced earlier going away with it.

The door to the tribute quarters open slide open suddenly and a fleet of avox all walk in, their red uniforms contrast the everlasting silver and gold of the dining carriage. They bring with them food of all kinds, that makes Cyrus forget about his reminiscing for a few minutes as it's replaced by curiosity at all the food that's now in front of them.

Meat, fruit and vegetables, things that only he has heard from some older folks in the garage would talk about are all now in front of him, making his stomach growl suddenly and his mouth water slightly.

"Don't wait for me! Dig in!" Charles says with excitement gesturing at the entire table of colourful food, replacing the empty white table that was there before.

Chevelle didn't hesitate, piling the plate in front of her with as much food as she can, as if it's all about to disappear within a few minutes, running out of food already. However, as he continues to scan the table, it doesn't seem like they are ever going to run out of food.

He takes a cut of meat in front of him, the smell invading his nostrils at the ham or chicken, he couldn't exactly tell, in front of him. He takes a bite out of it, savouring the food as the juices explode in his mouth and tickles his taste buds with a mixture of both salt and sweet.

It only reminds him that he had not eaten since yesterday lunch time, which probably makes why it tastes so good to him. His parents not able to bring food to the table once again, money tight as usual in their household.

His parents.

A sadness develops in his heart once again, yearning to see them once more, the feeling of destroying that room in the Justice Building evaporates as he hugs his parents, all three of them crying together, until his hazel eyes could cry no more.

The thought of enjoying such luxurious food only makes him feel worse, when back at home they could barely afford a loaf of bread. His parents refused for him and his brother to work, thinking that factory life should never be wasted on their brilliant minds, despite him not being so brilliant as he thinks.

"I'll get Dash, maybe he's feeling slightly better now." Charles can only offer that pearly white smile at the two of them before he disappears behind the metal door the avox had walked through minutes ago.

The atmosphere changes to that of an awkward one, Cyrus mentally shaking his head in disbelief thinking that the escort actually holds the conversation and keeps the atmosphere from going sour. Despite this Chevelle begins to speak, slowing down her eating somewhat.

"I'm Chevelle, by the way." She says to him

"Cyrus…" he replies back in a tone that can only be considered as silent.

They already met, at the Reapings, and yet Cyrus stays shy, his minds blanks out and he looks away from all the food and the girl in front of him. He curses his inability to speak to new people properly, his shyness and the little bit of acne break out he's getting totally dampens his self-esteem. He fixes his hair, dark as it is, and away from his face.

"Right," she drawls the word enough to make Cyrus cringe. "What sector do you live in?" She asks and he understands that she's just trying to be friendly with him, which is never really a bad thing, he wants to do the same.

"Sector Five." He replies to her. "I guess that explains my appearance and describes how poor I am, huh?"

"Not at all, I'm from Sector Four," she says with a smile on her face, although he doesn't quite see it reach her eyes. "Just as poor as you are."

He smiles at that, actually smiles, and he continues to eat again, savouring the food before his untimely demise at the hands of the Capitol. It's true that both sectors they're from are in the same bracket of poor, but the poverty in Six escalates the higher your sector number, especially when you go from six to eleven; increasing exponentially.

He guesses that his looks thinner than he already is, but his family could barely afford three meals a day, his parents could barely afford to feed themselves let alone two extra mouths. He doesn't blame them for it though, he just wishes there is a way he could have contributed more to the family so that they don't go hungry all the time.

"Do you have any siblings?" He suddenly asks her after thinking about his family.

She stops eating for a moment, swallowing whatever it was in her mouth before saying, "No."

He nods his head at that, continuing to eat himself, moving on from the various meat products and onto the vegetables, and all other kinds of drinks that's on offer, and all in different colours too. He takes a bite out of one of the vegetables, and cringes at the taste of pure bitterness.

"I do have a best friend that feels like he's my brother."

"I have one, an older brother."

He thinks briefly of his older brother, Artax, how he must feel right now, the normally stoic and logical person could not even go and hug his younger brother as they say goodbye at the doors of the Justice Buildings before vanishing from his view, and maybe his entire existence.

"What's he like?" He looks at Chevelle with a sad smile.

"Not as annoying as one would think…"

"Sounds like a fun person." She says, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

He continues to eat, the atmosphere back to its awkwardness, the silence getting to him, no vibration from the train or anything at all; just the constant humming of the tracks, the air around them dispelling the heat and cooling them off, and despite the gold and silver aesthetic it's very welcoming.

"Dashiell Stoppard! At least have the audacity to introduce yourself to the tributes!"

It's faint, but that's the voice of a very annoyed Charles Rummage permeating the silence in the room, a very welcoming sound for Cyrus' ears. A loud banging of hand against polished wood follows as the escort is trying to rouse their mentor that had clearly locked his door. Whoever this Dashiell Stoppard is, Cyrus thinks he does not want to make an appearance tonight, especially to his tributes.

"I don't know if you've heard of the rumours?" Chevelle suddenly says moving on to drinking something.

"What?"

"I heard from the girl's section earlier today that Dash suffers from some sort of addiction."

He doesn't say anything else, instead just nodding at that, understanding completely about their mentor's situation. Six is plagued by many afflictions; whether it be addiction to narcotics to the poor, or corruption to the rich.

He feels for them; gang warfare and the like are ever present in the later sectors of their district, or so he hears whenever he goes to school or when he's learning things at the garage.

"Do not make me force you!" Charles threatens, but still to no avail.

Chevelle just shrugs her shoulders and continues to eat her food, prying his eyes away from the walls where all the noise is coming from and he continues to eat his own food, finishing off his meal, wondering what the Capitol will bring.

All he wants to do is to change out of his sweat covered Reaping clothes and into more comfortable clothing, that he knows is in his room as he had checked earlier before being dragged out by Charles. He would really appreciate that, and maybe he could try to sleep too, if the impending doom doesn't get to him first.

He looks to Chevelle, a survivor is what he thinks of initially, combat boots and everything else she wears support his argument. He can't help but feel that she's hiding something though and he wants to find that out.

"If you're thinking of allying with me, then I suggest you look elsewhere."

"It didn't even cross my mind." He says casually, taking a small drink of this fizzy liquid.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her glare says it all, but she seems to soften up a second later.

"You don't look the type that would want someone like to drag you down."

"Huh. Maybe you are smarter than I first thought." She says, and he couldn't help but feel slightly offended by that statement. "I will, however, not kill you unless it's just the two of us left."

He nods at that and watch as she stands up, leaving towards the carriage that Charles had disappeared too earlier. He could hear the escort talk loudly to what he could only assume at Chevelle ignoring him.

He thought he would go through it alone too, if that's what Chevelle is planning, maybe. The moment his name was announced to the whole of Panem, unbalancing his sense of equilibrium, he thought at that moment that he would try to win.

There's no way, but his hopes and resolve could be his driving force. He finishes off the rest of his meal just as soon as Charles walk back in to the room, sitting at the table with a huff. "That's Chevelle off to sleep, bratty girl ignoring me when I asked her…"

"I think I should go too."

He leaves, reluctantly as he watches the man put his head on his hand in defeat. He wants so badly to stay or at least say something, but he just leaves him be, to contemplate the job that he had applied for.

It's pointless to talk to him today now, the sun had disappeared a few minutes ago, the moon had taken over shining its faux light at the trees and everything it could reach. He leaves the room, they can talk strategy tomorrow.

* * *

_**Ander Bayleaf, 12, District Seven**_

* * *

They say it's a normal occurrence for the first victor of Seven to not make appearances to their tributes until after the chariots, and that seems to be what's happening now. Everyone is sitting in the comfortable seats at the dinner table, food piping hot in front of them, waiting for Thomas Trellia to make an appearance.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case as it has been a good half an hour now, and the silence is growing awkward between the two tributes and one of their mentors. He's not used to awkward silences, Ander Bayleaf, who usually likes to speak and joke around with those he knows and doesn't know.

"Guess he's not much of a talker, huh?" He says to break the silence that's growing uncomfortable even for the other victor.

"You could say that." Gideon Clerwood says, a sad and apologetic smile on his face.

Then it returns to that silent feeling again, only this time the awkwardness grows back faster and stronger, no one wants that, it's becoming something he himself is disliking. He can't read people this way, just staring, with his big blue eyes.

He could see that his district partner is sad, her motions to eat anything destroyed by the mood and the events of today. It's never a fun time when you're being carried to the Capitol in a metal box, with the possibility of coming home in a wooden one. He could see her swirling her food on the plate, nothing but food left completely untouched.

"Don't look sad," he says cautiously, he doesn't know her that well and she might react differently with that statement, Gideon from the corner of his eyes also look on curiously. "Just think of it as a magical adventure."

She smiles at that, and Ander couldn't help but smile too. "Thank you."

"At your service," he says saluting like one of the Peacekeepers they saw when they boarded the train all those hours ago.

"For someone so you, you're very perceptive." She compliments him and he continues to smile, dimples and all, a feeling of heat tints his cheeks.

"It's just who I am, I suppose."

As if by complete magic, the air and awkward silence dissipates into a comfortable. Still not what Ander wanted but it's a start. Gideon looks on, between the two, his mind seems to be formulating something to say from what Ander could see.

"Have you guys thought about alliances yet?" He asks them in turn. "Maybe together?"

"I'd be happy to, if you're okay with that?" He looks hopefully at Maggie, his big blue eyes meeting Magdalene's soft brown ones.

"Yes, that would be lovely." She says following it with a smile.

"Together we could be strong and outshine them!" Ander says suddenly, excitement in his voice, or that's what he thinks the situation needs.

They continue to smile, Ander more so to the fact that Magdalene is starting to cheer up some, it's still a horrible time for them both, but if he could make people happy with his jokes, and the occasional pranks, then it's okay for him.

She's different now, in comparison to earlier, at the Reapings, where the girl looked stuck between running away or staying still. He saw her on the screens project around the square, her worries and fears plastered all over her face, she worries more when Peacekeepers come to escort her to the stage.

He wasn't very nice at the time, he could remember snickering and giggling along with his friends at her face, how she looked completely shocked. He wasn't laughing after Miriam, their escort, called his name for the whole of Seven, and Panem, to hear.

Speaking of, the escort too is not present at the table. All she says is welcome when they entered the train earlier and then that's that. She's not making an appearance either it seems. Her voice is shrill as she calls out his name, he could feel his whole face solidify into something more stoic during that time.

His woes and fear melts, strangely enough, into relief. He didn't want to look scared in front of the Capitol and so he puts on a brave face, despite being so young, his mind was already formulating a plan as he climbed onto the stage.

Befriend and betray, is all his mind could come up with, even at the dinner table, that's the only thing circling his head. How much friends he's going to make in this Hunger Games, only for him to stab them in the back later on to get ahead.

"I think my wife and I are expecting." His mind focuses on Gideon's voice, the conversation changing to that of families.

"Oh wow!" Magdalene exclaims suddenly, shocking Gideon and even Ander a little bit. "Congratulations! I have six brothers and sisters myself, it's a handful at times but it's never a boring time!

"That many!?" Gideon exclaims himself, eyes wide with shock. "Are you the oldest?"

"I am, how did you figure?"

"You have that kind of aura about you, almost motherly if I can say it in words."

Ander nods along with the conversation, his former talkative form from earlier is now deep in thought, pensive almost as he thinks about his own family. How much resentment he showed them inside the Justice Building when they came to say goodbye to him, and how selfish he feels right now.

"What about yourself?" She asks him, and he shakes out of his thoughts and smiles.

"One sister…we're not talking currently." The smile turns sad and Maggie frowns.

"Oh? Why not?" She asks him, her motherly aura coming back again. "She's your sister? Right? You still lover her, right?"

He just nods, thinking about the time that her sister, Aria, had told him that she had managed to get a job at one of the local mills and with that she didn't have much time to spend with him anymore. Their parents approving of the fact, now that she's contributing to the family funds.

"We're just…never mind."

"That's okay." Magdalene smiles at him. "When you're ready to tell, I'm sure you'll tell me about her."

His heart begins to pang, the guilt in it clenches his chest, a tight feeling that he can't stand. His earlier words about befriending and betraying continues to circle in his head, like a whirlpool at this point; his head spinning along with it.

Although, if he's being completely honest, this feeling isn't entirely new to him, the mindset of double-crossing friends isn't some new personality trait he developed the minute his name was called out to the world. His days running around and joking and pranking those in his group of friends back in Seven is testament of that.

He's not afraid to trip one of them as they run away from their victims within Seven, fleeing amongst the trees, or his impulse to shove those out of the way just to ensure his own safety .Selfishness is what he is closely becoming synonymous with.

The catch is that Ander always felt terrible after the initial adrenaline rush leaves his system with his breathing. The fact that his friends continue to stay with him surprises him all too much. That's saying that his friends aren't much worse than he is.

With Olive taking the lead of their group most days, a kid obsessed with herself more than anything else, despite this, her brave nature and fierce loyalty is unmatched in their group of four, which is why Ander tends to use her as the shield to hide behind whenever the jokes go too far or the pranks go wrong.

He curses himself every time he pranks Aiden, the youngest of the group, at eleven, he's not even reaping age yet, a worrier for his own sake and that of the group, if it's not Olive then it's Aiden most of the times that he uses to make a quick getaway, with it a slew of guilt riddles him every time.

He could never forget Amaé, even if he tries to. A kid not to be trifled with, she's a character stronger than most and always getting into fights, she's generally provocative and during his last hours in Seven, before leaving, she mentions that he now has no one to hid behind.

That strikes a chord within him, a deep-rooted anger that the minute she leaves he paces the room in a fit of rage, something that barely appears for him, the urge to chase after her and fight her there and then circulated her mind at that point, all because what she said was true.

"I think we should finish up here, if you want?" Gideon says looking at an avox with a nod. "We can talk strategy if you guys want, or you can just go to bed now."

"Strategy this early on sounds good." Ander pipes up, pushing his dish away from him, mostly uneaten due to his own thoughts taking over.

They head over from the crimson coloured dining carriage into the lounge compartment at the end of the train, the crimson dulling itself into a deep blue, the shine of the white moon making it more vibrant than it appears to be.

Magdalene and Ander sit with Gideon on the red sofa, the only thing standing out from the otherwise very blue aesthetic of the carriage. The windows continue to display the darkened forest scene, leaving Seven behind bit by bit every hour that passes by.

"Well, what do you guys think? More allies or just the two of you?" He gets straight to the point as he looks at them both.

"Well we don't know much of the other tributes, and we don't even know what they look like." Magdalene says, "but I want to ally as much as they would want me, especially if there are many young tributes."

"What do you think, Ander?"

"I want to see what everyone is like first, before making a decision."

"That's a good point." Magdalene says now thinking more deeply about it.

"Then we just have to work on sponsors, so that your chances increase." Gideon says. "Normally, Miriam is the right person for the job but she's been missing since the train started moving."

He doesn't wholly get it, the concept of the Hunger Games is very new to him, especially when he only turned twelve a few months ago. All he knows and understand at this point in time is that having more allies will contribute to his overall survival, his head sticking to that mantra in his head; befriend and betray.

He smiles at Magdalene at that moment and they continue to talk more, the moon high in the sky now, visible through the large windows at the back of the train, a faint light showing them the ends of the forest of Seven and into unknown territory.

"I'll finalise everything with Thomas, whenever he decides to get out of his room and we'll have a formulated plan by then."

"Hopefully…" Ander whispers to himself, making sure no one hears him.

"That's great." Magdalene stands up and stretches, her Reaping clothes, the blue dress she wore matches the general mood of the room as well as her motherly personality. "I'll see you in the morning, thanks for making me feel better, Ander."

They smile at each other but as soon as she leaves the room and out of view, he drops to a frown, Gideon catches up to his woes. "That's what you're going to do, huh?"

"I don't know what you mean." He says, looking at him, confusion on his face.

"Befriend and betray…" He said coldly. "It's okay if that's what you want to do, as your official mentor I will support you through it, if that's still your plan at the end of the week."

He didn't know if he's joking or not, at this moment he just wants to run away from him, how easily his mind could be read by some guy he just met a couple of hours ago. He wants more than anything to just dive into his bed, trying his best to calm this panging in his chest.

Although he knows it's useless trying to do that.

* * *

_**Avena Garner, 16, District Nine**_

* * *

The dust is settling, the wind becoming weaker as the day goes on, everyone going back to their normal mundane life back in Nine, weeping families letting go of their children with a morsel of hope that they may come back.

Avena Garner sits alone in her room, as magnificent and breathtaking as it is. Her eyes wet with tears, green orbs holding too much pain in her life as she wipes a few more tears that continually drop.

Normally she admires rooms like these, reminding her of her own home back in Nine. Gold is the motif of this room, everything and anything is plastered with the colour of gold, symbolising the grain of her district all year round.

She remembers playing with her own friends within them at times, playing hide and seek well into the night, the comfort that her parents are just close by in her mind. Now she sits alone in the dark, no one to even hold her and tell her that everything will be fine, because she knows it's not.

She's said all her goodbyes and shed the first few tears in that Justice Building, white and pure, as if hiding all those that have been before her, saying goodbye to all their families. Another tear drops onto her dress, a pale gingham dress, coloured green to compliment her eyes.

Her sigh escapes her lips so forlornly, her mouth forever in a frown hugging tight the golden pillow a little tighter, imagining it's her parents or her friends. She really does miss them so much and all she wants to do is cry until the day she's fated to die.

It's so much easier to forget that the Hunger Games isn't real than to face the reality, but that isn't the case, her mind wandering to that of her district partner, Rye Durum is sitting with the other victors right now, chatting them up something nice; all because he's already well acquainted with them all.

Her chances seem even worse now that Rye is talking up a storm with her supposed mentor, Salvia Korovai. She couldn't get a word in edgewise despite her multiple attempts. Avena knows that her chances are slim already considering her inexperience, living a comfortable life in Nine, not having to work a day in her life, with her mentor seemingly abandoning her she resigns to fate that she's doomed.

That's why she's in her golden palace, admiring and not admiring the room as she continues to hug the pillow tightly. She couldn't stand staying completely silent as her chances diminish in front of her like dust, so she leaves for her room.

"Avena?" A knock on the door alerts her back to reality. "I hope you're okay in there."

So they're not completely blind enough to notice a missing tribute. She scoffs to herself mostly, showing disbelief at how jealous she's being right now. She stands up, quickly changing out of her tearstained dress and into a pure white nightdress, that blends with her own pale skin.

It makes her look ethereal, or that's what she thinks to herself as she approaches the door, one of the only things not golden in colour. She debates to herself if she should open the door, opening and then being ignored once more.

"Will you let me in if I said I have cake for you?"

Despite all the jealousy and sadness, and any other emotion running through her head, a smile playfully paints her face, and she unlocks the door with relative ease, opening the door slowly to the victor, Salvia Korovai, standing there in a yellow sun dress.

She smiles curtly, tucking away her curly brown hair away from her face as she hands Avena a small plate with a cake on it. The tribute looks at her mentor up and down, admiring how strong she looks despite having to go through the horrors of the Games again, despite coming out victorious a year ago now.

"You stormed off earlier, I hope you're not upset." She smiles and walks in when Avena stands to the side, fixing her unkempt brown hair once more and then admires the room with a melancholic smile on her face. "This room never changed, looks exactly the same as it did last year."

"Really?" She asks, curiosity in her voice.

"Yeah, if you go into the wardrobe, I carved my name in there."

They go to brown wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room, Avena discarding the cake on top of the golden sheets of the bed as they both go towards it. She stands in front of it, admiring the brown surface as it shines reflecting what little light is in the room.

She grips onto the door and open it slowly, and Slavia points at the part where her name is carved underneath a quote that she had obviously written last year too. She reads it to herself, barely a whisper in her voice, "I was here…"

"I can tell you that Anissa was not very happy about that." She laughs and sits down on the bed, lying down and looking at the glittering ceiling with a content sigh. "I'm sorry if I made you feel left out earlier, it's just that I grew closer to the Durums over the past couple of months."

"I could tell." She smiles, taking up the cake and sitting beside her mentor, taking a bite of the moist and rich tasting cake, the cream and strawberries combining in her mouth in pure bliss as it dances around in her mouth.

Strawberries are becoming one of her favourite fruits of all time, having only tried it once or twice in her life, with both times loving it even more. It's rare for fruits like strawberries to appear in Nine, which is eighty percent grain, and on the rare occasion they become available in the markets she would ask her mother if they could have some.

However, for her district partner and maybe Salvia now, it might not be as rare as she thinks it to be. In fact she thinks that Rye is probably sick to the teeth of them already, that's when she realises that there's a stark difference between the two of them in comparison to their lifestyle.

"Can I ask you a question?" Salvia asks out of the blue, sitting up now as she looks at Avena.

"I suppose so…"

"Am I being a good mentor?"

"What?"

"It's, well, you know that it's my first time since I won. I…I just want to know if I'm doing well." She says almost nervous now, fiddling with the end bits of her dress.

"The cake is making up for it, I feel a lot better." Avena replies, smiling and edging herself closer to Salvia on the bed. "Although, I didn't really appreciate being ignored earlier."

"I know, and I tried to get out of it, trust me, but Rye is just so damn talkative." She says standing up and pacing. "I mean, before we boarded the train, old man Adlay said that he would mentor Rye, yet I felt more like his mentor than he is."

Despite the obvious stress happening to her mentor, Avena finds it interesting watching he victor pace around her room, the gold in the room makes it look like she's a wheat goddess on a warpath as she rants and raves about the level of responsibility a mentor and victor have.

It makes her forget that her mentor is still a teenager, just two years older than Avena. Thinking that in another life, she wouldn't have befriended someone like Salvia, due to their circumstances and wealth difference, but now that all doesn't matter as Salvia actually feels like a decent human being.

Saying that, Avena doesn't like calling herself snobbish, yet with the people she mingles with are a lot more snobbish than her, and there's this feeling that irks her whenever she's with people not of her class.

She understands that in the arena it would not matter, like it doesn't matter now, status means nothing if there's an axe or a sword driving down whatever body part it finds. However, she could use her status and wealth to her advantage in the Capitol, she would know how to act and gain the sponsors she would need for her, and hopefully her allies.

"I think you'll be great." She says to the pacing woman in front of her, placing the plate and fork on the bed. "We might even work together next year when I win."

A faux confidence in her voice, mainly to stop Salvia from worrying so much, but also to make herself feel better about her situation. It looks like it's working for one of them at least as Salvia stops in her tracks with a smile on her face.

"Thanks." She says and sits back on the bed. "Now, would you like to join us back at the dining table?"

"Yeah." She smiles and they walk back to the compartment she left an hour or so ago now, looking out the windows.

They're still in the district, just the tail end of it all, dull yellow illuminated by the pale moon. Her reflection jumps into view at times, dark and obscure, her braided auburn hair, once neat, now a messy bun atop her head. She dislikes, her hair is one of the things she's very particular with, but she's far too tired to fix it.

"You'll warm up to everyone soon enough." Salvia says and as soon as the door slides open to the dining cart they watch as a screaming match is happening between Adlay and Rye, mainly Rye at the now tipsy Adlay.

"You were never there for me, and now you're my mentor?!" He screams at Adlay, throwing a piece of fruit at his father, who dodges effortlessly, not even speaking and that spurs Rye even more. "Someone who doesn't give two shits about his family is actually caring now? Don't make me laugh."

Rye storms off after that, possibly to the lounge area of the train, and if there are no sliding doors in the train at all then Avena would think that she would hear slamming doors. Her eyes train to the table as Anissa, their escort, pokes her head out of the table, pure relief on her face.

"I'm so glad you're back, Avena, be a dear and help me up."

Avena goes to the lady and helps her up, the sequins on her dress blinding her as the light bounces off each of them in turn. She looks ridiculous, dressed in some sort of yellow wheat stalk or something that Avena has no clue what.

Meanwhile, Salvia goes towards Adlay and grabs the alcohol bottle from his hand, no resistance from the older man at all. "At least stay sober until after the invitation!"

Avena watches the two interact, how much her mentor differs to when she was talking to her earlier to what she is now talking to the older victor. She compares them to cats and dogs, Salvia a dog and Adlay a lazy cat.

At that point, she leaves Anissa as she sits back on her chair, with great difficulty, and leaving to follow after Rye, she could still hear Salvia scolding her fellow victor until the door slides close behind her.

She thinks that making amends with Rye could help her chances, and maybe to apologise for storming off earlier at dinner. Despite everything she does want to get to know him a little bit more than what she knows from gossip.

Her friends: Winnow, Farro and Vilja talk about Rye during their turn at saying goodbye to her in that Justice Building. How much of a prankster and a joker he is rumoured to be, however, after seeing that tantrum in full display she doesn't think he's much of a mischievous person.

She braces herself before approaching the boy, maybe her eyes wander a bit around the room to distract herself, everything about this train is truly marvellous and breathtaking to look at, the way the chandelier in the middle reflects the glow of the pale moon through the windows at the very back of the train.

"What do you want?" She snaps from her distraction at the almost angry tone in the boy's voice, although she couldn't help seeing faint tears in the boy's eyes. He softens up a little after saying that, "sorry, it's just…her riles me up so much."

"That's okay, we all don't get along with parents or someone, right?" She says, to break the awkwardness between them.

"Yeah…" he says almost sad. "Rye, by the way. I know we didn't introduce ourselves properly when we boarded the train."

"Avena, it's nice to meet you."

"I'm just happy that Salvia is here," he says. "She can help us individually."

Maybe it isn't so bad allying with him, something that Avena had been wondering about since boarding the train hours ago. She looks at him and he gives a faint smile, if he's closest to Salvia and they ally then it might boost her chances of surviving even more.

"Should we ally, then?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I would love to."

Just like that, and soon they'll meet everyone else, with her mind somewhat at ease now, her sadness just a snapshot of her day altogether, her day's event ending in a much brighter tone than earlier, when everything felt so bleak and hopeless.

"I guess we can talk more about the Games tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me." Rye says as he stretches on the lavish red sofa.

She gives him one brief smile and leaves Rye alone, heading to her room and saying her goodnight to everyone in the dining cart as well as Anissa. She goes straight to the wardrobe in her room the moment she enters, taking the fork and carving her name underneath Salvia's inside.

She traces her hand over her handiwork and she strays inside the wardrobe some more, her fingertips feeling more indentations and groves, she takes out the clothes and turn the lights on some more seeing more names inside the wardrobe, of all the past tributes, some writing grieving words and others just absolute vitriol at the Capitol.

In that moment, what happiness and slight confidence as well as faith she has in her fades seeing all the other names, realising that they too were here in her exact position and only one of them had come home so far.

* * *

_**Kenna St. Clair, 18, District Five**_

* * *

The shock is still to settle, the initial one leaving her as soon as her name was called out at the Reapings. Now they're whizzing away faster than she has time to calm down, going at this rate she may be half angry when they arrive at the Capitol.

She's seething, not only at the Capitol, but at herself for not at least trying to look competent when she made it to the stage, her hands balled into fists at that point, and continuing to do so even now. Her pale complexion thankfully hiding the ghostly white her knuckles would be gripping the metal cutlery.

Kenna St. Clair had a mission, or she still has it she supposes, and that's another thing to keep her relatively mad at herself, if only she didn't distract herself most days when she was still in the district. Spending most days either admiring her friend or just doing slow reconnaissance.

Now she's running out of time and also wasting it, trying her best to chat cordially with those around her; the escort, her mentor and district partner too. Too bad that only one of the four people at this table is actually happy to be here talking about nonsense and the Capitol.

Her food remains the same as it was at the start of their meal, remaining untouched, circling the pieces of meat and vegetable around the plate like a ball, responding minimally to questions that their escort would ask her.

Kenna's mind circling around the events leading up to her being in a train going to the Hunger Games, something that she was totally for before, but now she's one of those tributes, she's having slight doubts.

She uncovers a plot from the Power Seven the days leading up to the Reapings, then she spends the entire day with her friend, probably the only one she would really call that word, Brooke Lenoir. The hot summer's day felt perfect against her pale skin as they splash their feet by the dock in the artificial lake of Five.

Brooke, flashing her an innocent smile and parting away her fiery red hair, entranced Kenna like no other, they talk amongst themselves, about anything and everything; boys, girls, food and clothes. She's a true friend in her heart, too bad there's two things that always circle her mind whenever she was with Brooke.

One, she's a rebel, or at least her family lineage is. Their goal is to unify the districts against the Capitol and become separate entities in Panem. The second thing, this damn stupid Hunger Games took her away from her only friend.

She looks down from the dinner table, letting go of the cutleries as her fingers touch her lips, the faint spark and tingling she could still feel from the chaste kiss they shared inside the Justice Building of Five, her first ever kiss before she leaves and her parents walk in, lecturing her on the importance if this mission.

How this was several years in the making, their lives changed for the better so that they could uncover whatever this Power Seven were doing, and they lectured her further at her inept or reluctance to execute the counterstrategy.

That had only riled up her more than what she already was at the time, much like when she first entered that room in the building, shouting everything she knew, any expletives that would make even the sailors of District Four shy away.

Kenna decides it's become too much and stands up from the dinner table, her emotions are mixing and her mind confusing everything. Besides, she cannot bear another bout of small talk from their escort, as nice as she is presenting herself.

"Sit down." Hamish tells her, but she ignores him, normally someone of higher authority she would comply but she needs a break from these people.

"Like you can tell someone like her what to do…" Shade, her district partner scoffs and she turns around from the doorway.

"Excuse me?" She asks him, voice rising slightly in annoyance, maybe challenging him too. "Did someone call for the urchin to speak?"

"What's the point of you even trying, we all know rich folks like you tend to die off first in the Games, just like last year and the year before that."

That's true, and she wishes that it wasn't so that she could rub it in his face. The Volta family lost a child to the Games last year, someone from the Power Seven that she met seven years ago but had little interaction with.

He died pretty early on in the Games, but she remembered how much Brooke mourned his death, poor innocent Brooke, grieving for someone she barely knew, and that's another reason that she detracted herself from her task that day, of spying on the Power Seven, instead consoling her friend.

She knows one thing though, that the Volta kid is not her, the person does not have the same intelligence and confidence as she has with her, she smirks at Shade. "I'll let you think that when I drive a knife into your heart."

"Go for it," he says arms wide, inviting her to do it right there and then. "I have already experienced true grief, unlike you."

That's false, whoever this Shade is he's assuming everything about her, he doesn't need to know that though, using it as ammunition for use later on. She just makes fists with her hands and marches towards Shade, grabbing onto his white shirt trying to lift up the boy, despite being taller than her by a lot.

Dark brown eyes stare at teasing blue ones, Shades smirk whilst she frowns in anger. She wants to throw a punch so badly, just one quick one, a nice black and purple shiner could make the world a better place for her, maybe get rid of this headache that's forming in her head too.

Instead she lets go of him, the boy standing taller than she is, by the dinner table. The escort and their mentor sit quietly watching the scene as it diffuses. Kenna gives off a sigh, pushing him aside going to the drinks table at the corner of the carriage, pouring herself a shot of alcohol.

She takes a swig of it, the liquid burns her throat slightly, the taste familiar, if not better than Five's own imitation of it. Her disbelief that someone like Shade Grimoire, some nobody, is getting to her is astounding as she pours another and downs it in one go.

"Thought so…" A smirk, she knows he's smirking, and when she turns around it only confirms it.

"You know what?" She says voice rising again.

"What?" Shade teases with that stupid smirk on his face.

"You're scared, that you've been Reaped, and in the same situation as I am, that the people that love you are gone, or correct me if I'm wrong, _do _people still love you after reaching such an age at the orphanage you crawled out off?" She says closing the gap between them again. "I think you're scared of committing, that the people that loved you are either dead or no longer care about you."

"What about you?" He counters pointing a finger a slender finger at her, closing the gap further and Kenna takes a step back. "Someone was none too happy being Reaped, a spoiled child that thinks she could win through smarts and nothing else." He scoffs and takes a step back. "You're far from the truth by the way…"

"You're just a cynic, a stupid one too, a person that is incapable of loving someone."

"I'll take that over being a spoiled bitch any day."

"You, insufferable little fuck!" She marches towards him again and is about to throw an actual punch when Hamish stops them both.

"ENOUGH!" He shouts and the room goes silent, save for the sounds of the air-conditioner and the gentle humming of the train. "You!" He points at Kenna, "go to your room and you!" He points at Shade, "We'll talk first."

This time she complies, pushing past the annoying face that is Shade and goes to her room, stomping all the way. She mumbles to herself, about how much she wants to end that boy's life, how this is all detracting from her goal.

She makes it to her room, everything looking monotone, silver and grey from one corner to the other. She dives onto her bed, burying her head in a grey pillow and screaming to the top of her lungs, the silence that follows is deafening.

She keeps her head on the pillow, not wanting to face the world and its pressure on a little girl like her, but she needs to face it or nothing will ever happen to her. She raises her a few seconds later, feeling better already, her plan of trying not to get angrier failing after that event.

If someone had warned her beforehand about Shade Grimoire then she could have prepared for the worst, but she barely knows the guy, except maybe the headline from the news three or so years ago. She didn't deny him when he said he has experienced true grief, he had lost so much, but it did not give him the right to have acted the way he did, that type of behaviour was inexcusable in her own household.

Kenna thinks that if he keeps going on like this, acting like he's better than everyone and making enemies with every single person he meets, then he's only dooming himself. The situation they are in right now is nothing like being back in Five.

Thinking about him makes her think about home, however. Five became her permanent home when she was younger, born from Two originally, the two were completely different; from what she could remember. Cobblestones replaced by concrete, mountains replaced by forests and lakes, things more beautiful than what they appear to be.

Her parents, and to an extent her too, had never wavered from their loyalty to the Capitol. Her mission had not changed but for the three of them, but there's something in her heart that's telling her that there has to be another way.

Things are starting to fall out of place as she grew older amongst the Power Seven children, especially with Brook, warping her mind but her beliefs in obeying a higher authority keeps her in line, scared of what it would be like to fall out of line.

It was the same authority that gave her family a new lease on life, a better one than what they had in Two, and she is eternally grateful for it. Her parents are diehard loyalists, and are strict, becoming stricter whenever a new mission is given to them by the Capitol. However, she asks for freedom and they are often understanding and give her the freedom she cherishes.

In that context, and thinking about her parents, is when she begins to get serious again. She furrows her eyebrows thinking about the initial lecture her parents had given her back at the Justice Building before going to the plot she had uncovered.

She needs to deliver the information to some contact, her parents' inability to care for their daughter's possible death tossed aside so long as they fulfil the mission they had spent seven years planning.

Kenna is a smart person, but she's not smart enough to figure out where or when this person is going to contact her, this plot could end the Power Seven completely or scatter them around the district, either way she fears for her friend's life, but she can't betray her country and potentially save Panem from another war; Panem knows they need another one of those, especially with the new president sitting on the throne.

She snaps back to reality when she notices Hamish Brighton walk into the room, bearded face staring at her with anger, although she doesn't think the other person has any other emotion than pure anger, either way he glares at her and he looks threatening as she sits on her bed.

"First of all, be civil." He starts, still standing by the door." Second, do not argue like that during training, do what you want after that."

She nods at all of that, she has nothing against the man, in fact she admires him, a man surpassing his enemies and allies alike to win the Hunger Games, the greatest honour someone could achieve, the ultimate challenge, it thrills her to think about it. Maybe after she delivers crucial information she can take the Games seriously, and even become victorious in the process.

"Now let's talk strategy," he says taking the chair from her vanity and sitting opposite her. "What do you have?"

"Ally with anyone I deem worthy and avoid Shade as much as possible."

"You do understand that you'll see each other for the next week, right?" He says, raising an eyebrow and she scoffs.

"I can just ignore him." She folds her arms and avoids the glare that follows.

"Fair. I assume the One and Two fair are out of the question?"

"They're too unstable and this concept of allying with each other is too new to ever last, too many personalities."

"Well whatever you do, you have my full support." He tells her. "So long as you follow my two rules."

"I will, you know I will." She says standing up to make it look like she's serious.

She has the conviction for it, she knows this and she needs to make Hamish know this too. She already has blood on her hands, a condition in order to join the inner circle of the Power Seven. Dirty your hands in the name of Rebellion, disgusted with herself as she slit the throat of an unassuming Peacekeeper after seducing them at the age of seventeen.

She hated that part of herself, but she knows it would come in handy when the time comes.

* * *

**A/N - Here comes another installment of the Delusions of Grandeur. Sorry for the lack of consistent updates, my work schedule has basically been me on Nightshift for days on end.**

**Nevertheless here are the latest Four tributes! Cyrus, Ander, Avena and Kenna. Do tell me which one of these lovely tributes you like. This is also a chapter where we meet some of the mentors and escorts! (Well except for Dash and Thomas, but that's just them). Which ones did you like? **

**In other news, I have updated the victors blog, basically moving it from one website into another, I really like it now. It's easy to access too and not as fiddly to work with either.**

**Thank you guys, as always, for tuning in whenever I update and leaving a review.**

**~Alec**


	11. Chapter 6: Look the World in the Eye

_"Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye."  
~Helen Keller_

* * *

_**Merrick Riviera, 15, District Four**_

* * *

The sun continues to rise across the horizon, he could see it from the one window in his room reflecting the across the ocean surface. Having been travelling across the coast since leaving Four yesterday. He had something to eat, talked strategies and have made a general plan of attack since then.

In all honesty, Merrick Riviera did not expect he would be sitting on this bed, the lavish blue covers matching the ocean he sees every day, hours; literal hours, away from the Capitol and all the circus and performances begins.

When he volunteered, he had expected that someone was going to volunteer against him, someone stronger and smarter than him. Although he knows that in himself, he's ready for the Games, he thought that someone was going to contest him for the mantle.

He didn't want anyone to contest him, obviously, but realising it now as the adrenaline wears away, wiping a clean slate that he's going to have to fight for the greatest competition this side of the world. He knows nothing of the other places in the world, if they even exist at all, but he does know that the world is covered in water.

A week from now the Hunger Games is set to begin, twenty-eight years of children fighting to the death for eternal recognition; infinite support from their glorious Capitol. Something that Merrick has been thinking of ever since falling in love with the Hunger Games six years ago.

Though the adrenaline is wearing off now, he can still feel the giddiness within it all. A sort of dopamine hit where he feels good about himself, how happy he feels and everything in between. The biggest even of Panem is a week away and he's going to be in it, remembering how much he loved seeing all the tributes fight for the crown.

Though the last ever Four victor was over twelve years ago, he did like some of the tributes that have won recently. Adrestia Stark being one of them; a person he idolises for her ruthlessness in the arena during her time in the Games. He wants to be like her, that being said he does like the two mentors with him now too.

Triton Strombus is everything he wants to be, successful, good looking and loved by everyone in their district. In his opinion he is the best mentor for him, someone that can teach him how the Games work and train him on methods that he lacks himself.

It's still too early to do anything in the train, even ask for breakfast, but he can't sleep. He figures that not many tributes can sleep on their way to the Capitol, from nervousness to excitement, all the emotions being felt by everyone else.

Merrick is going to be on the other end of that scale, excitement coursing through his veins. Enjoying all the facilities the Capitol is going to offer him, picturing that this would be his life as a victor. Eating food like he had last night, using showers with different settings. He sighs just dreaming about it all; something that his district partner disapproves wholeheartedly.

Lily Mendoza had told him the night before that she had her doubts about him. A harsh criticism in her part, Merrick thinks that she's just being uptight about everything. Why not enjoy the life the Capitol is giving them and use that as motivation to come out a winner?

She offered a challenge then, before spooning another bit of that creamy ice cream into her mouth. That come training, if his supposed strengths stemming from the famous Triton Academy is all worth her attention and potential alliance.

He reassures her, rather pats her on the back, noticing the way her hands grip tightly on the spoon before he recoils his hand away. He will show her up, that's something Merrick can promise her for sure. He didn't train for six years to not be part of her ideal team.

Merrick remembers the time where he begged every day, his mother and father, to enrol him into the academy, lasting on for months trying to move the immobile rocks that are his parents. Now look at him, enjoying the lavishness that the Capitol can offer him, a small teaser as blue hues spread across all the room.

The tender softness of the clothes he now wears, discarding his old reaping clothes to the corner, green shirt and the white pants in favour of the finest the Capitol had given him. It truly is a trial period for his inevitable victory.

That's not to say that Triton completely agreed with his volunteering, after telling him the day before the actual Reapings. The way he throws his pen across the room, anger visible on his face, disguising the worry and nervousness of having to sacrifice another of his students to the devil that is the Hunger Games.

Merrick was lectured on his stupidity and foolishness there and then, not only from him but from Arlo Venilia too. Both victors not wanting for Merrick to jump to such decision. He argues that a reaped tribute is as good as a dead tribute, and that he can handle it.

It's true, he can feel it in his head all the way to this toes that he's ready for this. He may be younger than most of the tributes, younger that Lily too by two years, but he can tell from his growth under the academy that he can emerge victorious.

He gets up and pace around the room, the feeling is too much for him, unable to sit still as he feels himself begin to smile at the prospect of the next few days, never wanting to forget this moment. Lily, Triton and Arlo be damned; he is ready.

Deciding that it's better to shower now than later as they near the Capitol. Washing himself of yesterdays memories, mixed with the sweat of a hot summer's day standing amongst his peers, thinking that someone else might volunteer, but it was only him.

Pressing buttons on the wall to fill the room with sweet smelling aroma, relaxants that he closes his eyes and sigh out loud. There's no worry to wash away, happy as he can be with the present situation.

He washes every crevice that he could reach, going through his dirty blond hair, a trait that he and many of the district possess. Green eyes closing from the bright lights and suds from the shampoo. His hands calloused from countless training hours rub over his toned body. If there were any doubts over him, it should disappear now.

The atmosphere is of pleasure as the air fills with sweet citrus smells and ocean tides. A scent he knows and remembers well. It clears all his excitement, making him focus on the day ahead, for the circus to start and he can perform his act.

He ends the shower short, drying everything as fast as he could and putting on a white polo shirt and matching trousers, all having some form of blue accents on them. There's no clock in his room, but he reckons it's time for breakfast as he discards the towel on the floor.

He puts on shoes that fits him perfectly, as if the Capitol knows about him already. They must do if they scan their blood every year. Exiting the bedroom that he'll never see again, he heads for the dining cart, with only Lily sitting by the table.

She's wearing a matching coloured dress, an ombre of white from the top turning a blueish hue by the time it reaches her knees. The lights are dimmed, though the light from the sun outside fills the room brightly, making Lily's dress stand out even more, reminding him of the ocean.

The wide windows continue to show the large coast that Four has but doesn't have access to; he doesn't even know if he's still in Four at this point as he takes his seat opposite Lily. "Good morning!"

"Morning." She smiles, drinking the cup of orange juice she holds in her hand. "There's toast if want some."

"I think I do." He stands up and goes to the corner where various breakfast meals are served, from cereals to bread and then the toast. He takes some with butter and jam as he goes back to the table spreading the butter on the toast.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asks him.

"Better," he replies as he flags an Avox down for some orange juice. "Excited even, you?"

"Much the same, can't wait to see our competition." She says as she takes a bite of her own toast, wiping her mouth with a cloth afterwards.

He wonders about that too, thinking of all the other tributes from eleven other districts. How the Ones and Twos are and if they will team up like what they have been doing the last couple of years; or if there's going to be strong outliers out there too.

He eyes Lily and thinks if she's going to be one of those outliers, and if that's the case he wants in. he coughs feeling the dry toast enter his oesophagus, washing it down with some of his drink, the tart sweetness of the orange juice dancing across his tongue in a happy jig.

"You said last night that you're open to teaming up?"

"Yeah," she sips on her drink first. "But like I said last night, I need to see what you're like first."

"I heard you loud and clear." He says, as he crunches on the toast once more. "Prepare to be surprised."

"I'll wait for it." She smiles and a comfortable silence settles amongst them both, just the crunching of toast fills the air disturbing the silence between them.

"Did you ever think you'll be here?"

"This year?" Not really. Next year? Most definitely."

"What changed?"

"My friend, she told me that she never wanted to go into the Games, and other personal matters on my part were big factors that helped make my decision for me." She says looking him straight in the eyes, brown meeting green for what feels like the first time. "What about you? You seem three years too young to volunteer for the Hunger Games."

"I think, no, I know I'm ready." He waits to see if she would scoff at him or look at him with judgement, but it doesn't come. "I've dreamed of this moment ever since I was young."

"How did your parents react?"

"Well…"

Flashes of his father and mother crying either side of him go into his mind, resurfacing like he does when he swims on the ocean water. Them pleading him to stay and reconsider his choice, but at this point, as they sit on the plush blue sofa of the Justice Building, it is too late to change his course, not that he wants to anyway.

His father took it quite hard, crying as if grieving his son's death already. He doesn't really believe that, his pleads change from reconsidering to coming home once the reality of it all kicks in for the whole family. He hugs them both, reassuring them that it's going to be fine and that he will come home.

"They were supportive by the end of it." He didn't have to mention his father being dragged away by the Peacekeepers, out of the blue room before he left for the train. He didn't need to tell that, it would only be used against him.

"My dad too was supportive." Lily says, a sad smile on her face as she looks at her empty plate forlornly.

"Sounds like we have good families then." He says as he smiles after it, and Lily smiles along with him in agreement.

Deep down he knows that his father had been against all of it; whereas his mother had been very supportive and have told all her children to try new things. It did wonders for his health too, seeing how fit and strong he has become had made his mother proud, but she never anticipated that he would volunteering for the Games.

A comfortable silence settles in between them, like soft warm wool or after being out in the sunshine beaches with a gentle breeze. The room darkens and the artificial lights bloom, the train going deep into the forest; a blue ocean view into a jade forest.

They're closer now, more so than ever, leaving the coast behind, leaving the district, Four being a distant memory in their eyes. "Nearly there." Lily says as she finishes off her drink.

"Sure are…" He agrees continuing to think about his family.

He knows that his older brother would agree with his decision, he's always been the most mature of the Rivera siblings. In fact, Merrick told him what he intended to do and instead of trying to persuade him like his parents did, he was supportive.

"Hey, you went to Triton, right?" Lily breaks their comfortable silence and out of his trance like state. "What's it like?"

"Huh?" He looks at her with confusion on his face, his school is pretty famous and figures that everyone knows what it's like. "It's like a normal school, I guess, with emphasis on Four related activities.

"Like?"

"Like spear fishing, basket weaving, swimming…whatever vocation Four relates too, plus actual school subjects."

"Interesting." She crosses her arms, pondering everything Merrick is saying to her.

"Did you not go to a school?"

"No, well I did go for a year or so, my father took me out of it." She says looking at him with her brown eyes. "I went to this back-alley academy, in the outskirts of the district."

"There are other academies?"

"Yes, much more ruthless than the one you described." She replies, asking for more juice. "No, basket weaving in this one."

Merrick ponders that for a moment, to think that there are things like that in his district and Triton hasn't put a stop to them. He does figure that all the volunteers as of late were from Triton, but now he doesn't seem to think. No one ever keeps track of the best of the best in their academy.

He couldn't imagine going to anywhere other than Triton Academy. "But you're trained right?"

"Yes, pretty good with a lot of weapons, actually." Lily smiles at the Avox that gives her another glass of orange juice.

If there's any moment today where he doubts himself, it's now. It's a brief worry as he buries it down again, no point in showing weakness. He has to get home and enjoy this life he is sampling. He feels out of his depth, but not too much. He can still breathe above the water.

"Well I cannot wait to spar with you then." He says to her, a smirk appearing on his face, Lily's face of shock turns into a smirk, only Merrick now realising the small scar on the side of her lips.

"Likewise."

"You two are up early!" Noel Raynott, walks into the cart, wearing an ocean blue suit to match his glistening blue hair. His eyes blue like the sky, if anyone is overdoing with the colour of their district it's their escort.

Lily looks at him and smiles, "We're just both very excited about the next couple of days."

* * *

_**Velvet Ecletant, D1F**_

* * *

She looks at herself, the mirror inside the bathroom of her bedroom illuminates with the bright lights. Showing off her cascading reddish-brown hair, dropping like the water from the waterfall on her shoulders.

She tries to smile or practice the smiles they teach her in the academy. Freckled cheeks widening as she does different things with her mouth. Blowing a kiss, smiling and then winking. All something she would never, and could never, do in front of anybody.

Velvet Ecletant is never that person to fall into social norms, much like her peers in Beacon Academy. Most, if not all, of them blonde haired, blue eyes. The school is like a drop of heaven within the glistening district that is One.

She glances past her face; onto her body, toned and slightly muscular, to her legs perfect for running down to her toes, entrapped by her sandals; rather the Capitol's. She is everything a district One tribute should be, except for her blonde hair and blue eyes, instead her eyes a dark hazel.

Velvet disregards that feeling, today is going to be her day. A chance to be herself, to show the Capitol that the 'angels' of One are not the only tributes they send from her beloved district. She is going to make them route for her, and her alone.

Her trainers back at home lack interest in her as she grows up within the halls and rooms of Beacon, instead favouring those that fit the descriptor of what a tribute from One should look like. Angelic beings with nothing but air in their head, and a ferocity like demons.

She doesn't agree with this descriptor. She doesn't agree with this practice at all; having changed their focus from strengths to that of appearances to garner gifts from the Capitol in order to win, they lack the complete package – strengths and smarts – that she knows she has. That's why they haven't had a victor since Pyrite.

That's why Velvet has made it her job to do it all, excite the Capitol with her natural beauty, breaking the mould that is thrusted upon every student in her academy; break the culture that is brewing and have become the common practice of Beacon.

She notes that the first ever victor looked nothing like the picturesque angels that they are all used to; Balas Beacon was the first ever One victor, with his light brown hair and tanned skin, a much different than the light skin blonde haired victors after him.

She smiles, the feeling touching her lips again as she paints it a brilliant ruby red, something her mentor had suggested to her yesterday during their dinner. Flash Gladstone states that if can enhance her sex appeal, she rolls her eyes but takes the suggestion anyway.

Putting her lips together, she takes it in stride. Despite her general quiet attitude and lack of knowledge about makeup products, she will listen to any advice from both mentors. Garnering enough information to hopefully – no – win the Hunger Games.

Their other mentor, Jasper Alcott, she also clings to for more advice at the annoyance of her district partner; Carnelian. She knows him very well: fair skin, hazel eyes, that district trademark of a blonde hair colour the Capitol absolutely adores.

He has a good reputation too. Well liked by everyone in the school and very popular amongst their peers and beyond. She's better than him, she knows that, he knows that, but she is shadowed by Carnelian's heritage.

Carnelian Wolfe carries the 'Wolfe' family name, one of the lesser houses that have good reputation amongst all the various house system their district contains. The Wolfe Company produces luxury bath items and amenities, and Carnelian is set to be the next heir of the company, that's if he survives the Hunger Games.

Velvet? She has two parents and no siblings. A lady, that she would say, got spoiled rotten but always finding a way to strive for greatness, that's why ever since she met Carnelian in the halls of Beacon, they have been put together in almost everything; compared to one another like two show dogs. They are often in competition with each other, and right now they're even.

Whereas Carnelian had privilege and a legacy to uphold, she didn't and that's what she wants for herself. Carnelian had the looks synonymous to One, she doesn't. That means she has a lot to prove to not only the Capitol but to herself.

She flattens down the dress she decides to put on, superfluous like the ones her mother makes on her spare time; making her think of home. A pastel pink in colour as she makes her way to the door, hearing someone knock.

The door opening reveals the very person that has been on her mind only minutes ago. They say if you speak of the devil he normally appears, so her face colours into shock when she sees Carnelian standing in front of her; wearing the same pastel colour on his shirt and shorts.

Carnelian, the boy that's been plaguing her mind for years is standing with a goofy smile on his face. Her blood doesn't boil, or isn't boiling yet, as she crosses her arms. "What do you want?"

She asks him with such ferocity that Carnelian backs away slightly raising his hand in defence, or to protect himself from anymore verbal assaults. She narrows her eyes, she knows that he knows that she's never like that.

"A truce." Is all he says to her, one arm rubbing the back of his neck, his perfect hair in a sort of swept style to one side.

"Truce?"

"Yeah, last night was really awkward, and I get the hostility." He says.

What he's referring to is the dinner they all had last night, all of them sitting at the dinner table that evening, in complete and utter silence. The only sounds are the metallic cutlery scraping and tapping on the porcelain plates.

The occasional small talk from their escort, Dora Heffel, is what always break the awkwardness of the situation. A clueless Capitolite, always last to know of the situation at hand, marvelling at the victors and disregarding both of them. This combined with her strong feelings towards Carnelian, the train care that evening was one quiet affair.

Now Carnelian is here, in front of her, extending that olive branch like some war general. He smiles at her once more and all she does is roll her eyes. "I'll accept the truce."

She narrows her eyes, scanning her rival and district partner closely. "But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye on you."

"I'm weirdly okay with that." He says another flash of his perfect white teeth as he extends his hands out. "So let's make it official."

She reluctantly shakes his hand, callouses meeting one another. Noting that his is softer than hers, maybe he takes care of his own hands, but it doesn't seem like he trains all that much, she wonders that for a second before Carnelian speaks.

"Jasper was saying, last night, that we should ally with district Two like last year, and the years before that." He says inviting himself into her room, finding that rude but allowing it, she was about to say something when Carnelian continues his proposal. "We don't even know what they're like, what If they're the two most boring tributes in the Games?"

"If they are boring, but strong, I'll take strength over personality any day."

"That sounds like you…" He says, barely above a whisper and she flashes him a look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She crosses her arms, still standing by her doorway. "Also, what makes you think you'll be my ally?"

"Wait, we're not?" He says sitting up from his lying position on her lavish red bed. "I thought it was an automatic thing for us Beacon alumni."

"I still have to decide if you're strong enough for me." She says, her mind going back to their handshake from earlier.

"Velvet, I'm the strongest student of our year." He says, a grin and a smirk away from her smacking it off his face.

She wanted to sigh but decides against it, the bias of Beacon towards their male students was always evident having six victors and only one of them being female; Chanelle Gieves is currently absent from her duties, 'personal matters' is what Flash says to her last night.

"Correction, you're the strongest _male _student of our year." She says looking at him directly. "And I, the strongest female."

"So what you're saying is that I have to prove myself to you? Prove me worth?"

"I'm not saying anything, just that I haven't made my mind up about you."

"That sounds like a challenge, a very good one." He says standing up from the bed, walking slowly towards Velvet, getting closer by the second. "Velvet, my soon-to-be-ally, I accept this challenge."

He smiles again, their face inches from each other. Velvet's arms are still crossed, her eyes, dark hazel, daring Carnelian's hazel-speckled blue ones to a fight. He inches away, him giving a smirk as he exits her bedroom.

The door closes behind her and she lets go of the breath she didn't know she was holding. Her face couldn't help but smile, something that doesn't happen often, just the fake ones that have been thought to her. Her red lips smiling, her heart racing.

She shakes it away, her hands coming to give gentle slaps on her face. Losing it now is never going to be in her favour. She doesn't even know where that excitement is coming from, but what she needs to do is focus.

Velvet takes the advice from her best friend closely: '_conceal your emotions'. _Her mind briefly wandering towards her friend, Plush, cherub like curly blonde hair with a genuine kind heart. A family that is relatively unknown too, they spent most of their times together, starting out as friends back when they were very small.

Outgoing and always in love with every boy they meet, the two of them are polar opposites. She, the quiet one, and her the noisy rambunctious one. A heartbroken maiden and the comforting friend would be their title together.

Sometimes, Velvet thinks she's callous and cold, but her caring for Plush whenever she gets her heartbroken over and over again convinces her otherwise, but that one piece of advice she received from her during their goodbyes is what she takes with her to the Hunger Games.

'_Conceal your emotions and hold your head up high'_

* * *

_**Bailey Tauros, 12, District Ten**_

* * *

There's panic in her soul, down to the very core to her very being. She knows this; her mentors know this; her district knows this; the whole of Panem knows this. It's hard to say that her breathing is now coming out faster than anticipated, as Bailey Tauros suffers from another panic attack.

The only person keeping her together, Maybelle Davis, is beside her, stroking her hair. Her normal cheery disposition breaks down, her face contorts into a sob, nonsynonymous of her usual happy self.

Although she does get emotional at times, she's never been this overwhelmed before in her entire life. It's a short twelve years, and she knows that it's going to be a short twelve years. No one her age has ever even made it to the top twelve, usually dying off pretty early.

It's strange how it's all now hitting her today. Yesterday, she felt fine, held it together very well during the Reapings. No tears for her on that day, save for when she had to say her goodbyes to her parents.

However, with a new day, the rising of the sun and the general feeling of dread in the atmosphere has changed her; turned her into this messy emotional blob of a human being. The feeling of hopelessness creeping up her entire body, seeping into her cells.

It's a good thing that Maybelle is with her at this time, in fact, Bailey doesn't remember her actually leaving her side the minute they boarded the train. Always there to console her, always there to try and make everything feel a little better; doing anything for her tribute like a good mentor should do.

Even the escort, Pedro, comes in earlier, dropping off some breakfast for them to eat before stopping at the Capitol. She spots the breakfast by the vanity, through her misty eyes. Stopping herself from her fast breathing, trying to calm down even though she's struggling to even breathe at this point.

Maybelle strokes her back and then her hair. A gentle melody flowing out of her mouth like syrup, enough to try and relax her. She can feel it too, the way she stops feeling her heart battering against her ribcage and chest. The way her breathing slows down and she begins to feel slightly better.

"We have less than an hour before we arrive in the Capitol." Maybelle speaks in a hush tone, soothing and calm. "Let's eat our breakfast and get you ready, okay?"

Bailey can only nod her head wondering why her mentor has been really nice to her, actually everyone in this train is being nice to her, even her district partner. Gharial is someone that intimidated her at first.

You couldn't blame her, Gahrial's face is covered in bruises, a black eye going purple as her room décor. A darker purple that hides and steals any form of natural sunlight from the small windows that it has. She looks down at her breakfast, not being able to stomach anything to eat at all.

She goes back to thinking about Gharial. How he asks her if she's okay the minute they meet again at the dinner table. She knew then and there that Gharial Rivers is someone that could never hurt her, she trusts her gut more than ever when meeting new people.

She fights the urge to vomit, taking a bite of her toast, now cold from being left alone for a half an hour. The crunch is still there but she can feel the dryness of it all, trying to swallow it without wanting to throw it back up; she follows it with some water to drink.

All this talk of throwing up reminds her of the Reapings once more, having thrown up at the girl in front of her when the escort announces her name for the whole of Panem to hear. She doesn't acknowledge her as she makes it up to the stage, misty eyes blurring everything and everyone.

"I can't…I can't eat anymore." She tells Maybelle, who offers only her smile.

"That's okay." She says. "Let's get you ready then, Pedro is nice and all, but when it comes to deadlines and punctuality, he can be a bit nippy."

"He's really caring, all of you are, at least I'm surrounded by so many nice people right before my death." She looks down at her feet, bare, feeling the soft purple carpet, softer than anything she has ever owned in her life.

"You don't know that," Maybelle says, quite abrupt. "Optimism can help you in these type of situations."

"I just feel like I'm totally useless." She says, still looking down at the carpet.

Her fears of being useless is coming true each day, as she cries and panics over every little inconvenience the Capitol presents to her. She'll run out of tears by the first day of training if she goes on like this. She's so unsure about herself and her skills.

A little doubt is all she needs and it spirals into her mind. The voice in the very back of her head, all the way to the place she hates visiting about herself says that Maybelle and Gharial, even Rooster, are being nice to her because of her family name.

Tauros.

The current ruling family of Ten, the mayor uses his power to rule over Ten like a fearless leader, only corrupt and favouring the wealthy for most of the part. She may be a distant relative of the current mayor, her name still radiates the same aura as their current mayor.

She carries the Tauros name, like a burden, the weight of the upper class, which she thinks is the reason why everyone is being nice to her. You don't want to sully the Tauros name, that would reflect bad on the mayor.

She makes her way to the bathroom, the mirror confirming just how well off she is. Healthy weight and honey blonde hair along with her pale complexion, suggesting that she has not worked a day in her life, unlike Gharial that seems to be tanning slightly from the summer sun.

She splashes water on her face, tear-stained cheeks and red eyes fading away slightly as she looks herself at the mirror again. Her eyes still puffy from all the crying, but she's not bad at all. Putting her lovely golden locks into a ponytail.

She takes off her reaping dress, green with white shades. A new dress bought especially for her first – and last – Reaping. The one that's hanging by the door is more beautiful than the one she drops to the floor: plain white summer dress, handpicked by Maybelle this morning.

She can relate a lot to her mentor, Maybelle was one of the youngest ever victors and only killing one person in the arena. It was her district partner that she had to end up killing, having spent a gruelling few hours just watching him suffer as the boy had sustained injuries from a prior fight, and Maybelle's reluctance to kill anyone.

She feels that panic rise again, thinking of a scenario where both her and Gharial are the last ones standing. With him in the same situation as Maybelle's district partner or the other way around. Would she do it? Can she kill someone, especially someone from her own district?

She dares not think about it, as she puts her hand on her chest, starting to feel the harsh beating of her heart again, she delves deeper and deeper into scenarios until a knock on the door disrupts her thoughts.

"Bailey?" Maybelle knocks again. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yes." A shaky reply, but she steadies her breathing, in to the nose and out to the mouth. "I'm okay."

"We have thirty minutes."

Bailey opens the door, Maybelle already in a dress. Something Bailey thinks is what the Capitol wants her to dress as, a complete opposite of what she was wearing previously; a sundress coloured a dark red, signifying blood.

"You look gorgeous." Bailey says with a faltering smile and a gulp at the thought of blood.

"Thank you, so do you." She says as she holds out her hand. "Come on, we're going to meet with everyone before we step out of this train."

She takes the hand and they walk to the front of the train, passing by countless other rooms and closets until the reach the lounge of the train, just on the same carriage as the doorway to the outside world.

She can still see only blue skies even through the little porthole of the metallic door. The rest of the lounge seems pretty tame in comparison to the other carriages of the train. Bailey thinks that it has something to do with welcoming tributes to a homier environment before shocking their minds with so many jarring and flashy objects, overloading the circuit boards of their brains.

The lounge is a neutral white, Peacekeepers stand at either side of the metallic doorways. Opposite them are chairs, creamy white in colour also; plush and soft. Bailey didn't really appreciate it before, when she entered the train yesterday, but now that she's here it's actually nice looking.

A small chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling, catching the light, artificial or not, reflecting its light towards the far corners of the room. She has seen chandeliers before, her own home back in Ten has one, but never to this beauty.

"Well aren't you two just a dream!" Pedro catches her attention now, having been speaking to Rooster, the other mentor. "Thank you for being on time."

Rooster only nods towards her direction, holding up a thumbs up in a supportive manner that Bailey just appreciates. Maybelle gives her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance before making her way towards Rooster, talking silently with each other.

She makes her way to Pedro holding onto her dress, "I'm sorry I took too long to get ready."

All Pedro does is smile at her, pearly white teeth mirroring that of the lounge. "It's quite alright, my dear." He says to her giving her blond hair a pat on the head, before holding onto her pale hands, his own tanned ones standing out.

The Ten girl nods with a smile, her eyes wandering to Gharial in the corner of the room, sitting quietly to himself. He's wearing a summer shirt, loose fitting that hides the muscle she knows he has underneath. He's wearing brown trousers along with the white shirt, and despite the bruising to his cheek and the black eye he still manages to look somewhat handsome.

She's been wanting to speak to him, not really finding the energy last night with all the crying and whatnot. He looks pensive at that moment when she approaches, she too thinks about the fantasy she had earlier, shivering with fear at the thought.

"Hey." She says, slightly scared but finding enough courage to talk to him, he smiles at her giving her a small wave of his hands.

"How are you?" He asks her, and that's one of the reasons why she's okay with talking to Gharial, the ones that melt away the fears she possesses.

"Nervous, I think it's all hit me this morning."

"Yeah, me too." He says, scratching the back of his neck.

"Really?" A genuine question, her first impression of Gharial being this tough person slowly changing her mind.

"Of course, the Hunger Games is a different ball game." He says looking at her with a small smile. "It's difficult to comprehend, we don't even know what the other tributes are like, who we'll meet, rich and poor. More likely there's going to be a lot of poorer folk, with all the tesserae and all."

"I had no idea..." She says back.

Looking back, her knowledge of Panem only comes from her tutors at home. Her father reluctant to let her go to public school. Therefore her knowledge of most of the other districts are slim to none; outside her family and friends she doesn't know much. That makes her even more nervous now, however.

"Well, at least we'll see for ourselves, soon right?" She counters him, frown on her face, hopeful of the question.

"Yeah…" He says to her looking down at his brown shoes, he looks back up. "I'm sorry if I scared you with my ponderings."

"It's okay." Bailey shakes her head. "Maybelle told me to be optimistic."

"Then I'll be optimistic with you."

She couldn't help but smile at that, even through the train stopping. The chandelier shaking slightly as the vehicle grinds to a halt. The noise outside shaking each pieces of the ornament; along with hearing faded sounds of cheering and shouting.

Bailey couldn't help by hold onto Gharial's hand, reaching for it squeezing that callous tanned hand. The boy didn't seem to mind, not recoiling from the touch. They're here, arriving in the Capitol and ready to face the music.

Bailey hopes that her optimism is enough…for now.

* * *

_**Klayton Barker, 14, District Eleven**_

* * *

The escort had told him that he only has a few minutes before they exit the train, arriving in the Capitol a little over twenty minutes ago now. The normally chatty and sociable creature that is Klayton Barker takes his time to reflect on the last couple of days.

He figures that he's going to be doing a lot of that. He's away in the corner by himself, sitting on the plush white chair of the lounge, losing track of how many dangling lights are on that chandelier that doesn't seem to want to stop swinging.

It's almost hypnotic in a way, illuminating faded whites. Not unlike his room, a deep brown in colour hiding every single light that touches it. The bed he laid on was the most comfortable thing her had ever felt. His eyes track the movements of Kitty Seaton, their escorts as she rehearses whatever it is, she's doing.

In the days leading up to him being present in _the _Capitol, there's been drama at every step, mostly from their escort complaining about their mentor, Bergamot, not showing himself once again. It's a common occurrence, apparently.

He can think of the time where he complained about working in the fields, in fact he did so just a day before the Reapings. He worked another long day in the fields of Eleven, under the sticky humidity that he, for sure, knows is not present in any other district.

He remembers complaining to his brother, in fact, that their lives are set in stone already, not changing whatever it is they want to do. Born from the fields and dying in the fields. How wrong was he when his named was called out by none other than Kitty?

He said that nothing will ever change unless the do something about it. It seems that fate had decided in his stead. In fact he distinctly recalls his brother rolling his eyes and their friend, Stone, scoff along with his eye roll. Klayton did not appreciate that type of reaction, this Stone, he's known him for years, sometimes gets on his nerves.

He leaves the two, in their rickety house nearer the cotton fields where most of the family work and meeting up with his best friend. Someone that he idolises dearly. His skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, ebony skin darker under the sun if that was even possible.

Meadow.

He looks up from his thoughts to see Kitty still pacing, there must be some pacing issues here. Did their train arrive early? Where is his district partner? Maybe all they're waiting is for Ashley and then they can get out of this metal death trap.

Meadow calls it that sometimes, seeing trains come into the train station, where they tend to hang out during their off days. A small creek just close enough to the tracks, they, walking towards it, passing by their fellow citizens, Klayton worrying for those being mistreated by not only the dastardly Peacekeepers but by their own citizens too.

The day before the Reapings was an especially hot one, he could still feel the way sun's rays bite at his skin like snakes. The way his forehead sweats more than ever. He heard a few of the Peacekeepers complaining about it being the hottest day yet or something-

"Klay!"

He snaps from his daydream, the memory of his brother, Stone and Meadow, along with is district disappearing like a puff of smoke. His district partner is staring right at him, Kitty eyeing him suspiciously from behind her.

Ashely eyes him suspiciously, amber eyes laser focusing themselves on his own brown ones. Klay noticing that her dreadlocks are now coiffed back, that must be why she took so long to get to the lounge. He glares at her at first, for disturbing his reminiscing.

"What?" He says, upset that she's disrupting him.

"We're ready now." She says, and he couldn't help but hear the sigh escape her lips. "Kitty said that we're to hold hands or something," he eyes her suspiciously this time around. "To present a unified front."

"But you told me you didn't want to ally with me."

"I said that I'm still thinking about it, now come on!" She says taking his hand and pulling him up from the soft chair. "Besides I can hold your hand and still not be your ally, we're doing this to represent Eleven."

Not that his district has even done anything for each other. Although he knows that their communities are closer than most district, the way the Capitol oppresses them disappoints him to no end.

Kitty now makes her way towards the two of them. Eyelashes longer than his fingernails, that's what it looks like anyway; wearing some sort of ostentatious dress covered in ribbons coloured pink and purple; it's not the right colour to match the white dress.

"Come now, tributes!

Ashley drags him towards the metallic door, the porthole on it shows very little of the outside world. Everything just looks bright from his point of view. The sounds of the steam being released underneath the train is all he can hear at first following that: a large noise chanting and cheering, his name and Ashley's too.

"Where's Bergamot?" Klay asks.

"Gone, back to his room!" Kitty huffs, fixing the ribbon on her dress. "He'll show up later." She turns around to face the both of them, up close her makeup seems even more jarring to look at as Klay turns away slightly. "Pastel yellow, an interesting and good choice, to both of you!"

Klayton akin her to a doting mother of some sort; annoying yet somewhat caring, although she doesn't hold a candle up to his own mother. A close second perhaps, and at this point he tries to step back when she goes to straighten up his clothes, wiping a bit of food from his cheek he must have missed from this morning's delicious breakfast.

Her scrutinising gaze makes Ashley uncomfortable, it seems, but he doesn't seem to mind. Putting on a brave face. The same one he had during the Reapings; although he's hoping he doesn't break down crying again.

Normally, Klay is good with crowds. He likes them, thrives in them; a more social butterfly than his brother or any of his other family even. He prefers groups, a way to exchange information through a larger network is better than just one or two people, right?

If that's the case, maybe he'll thrive within the Capitol, where they speak their minds instead of internalizing it; something he thinks his district partner is doing for the day or so they have spent together so far.

They're still holding hands, Klay's eyes scanning their hands; Ashley's calloused and hard ebony hands. He reacts when she tightens her grip on his own hands when the Peacekeepers go to move to their side. Her entire body shifting inches towards him, trying to distance herself from the white uniforms as best she could.

An interesting fear, perhaps? Klay will have to prod and poke her about that later as Kitty breathes in and out trying to calm herself. There's no warning from her, only she gives the both of them is to smile and keep moving, no stopping or anything because she doesn't know what kinds of things happen if they did.

"Hey." Klay says to her, voice barely above a whisper. "Just breathe, hold my hand tighter if you have to."

She doesn't say anything; doesn't even acknowledge his concern over her. Her head still boring holes into Kitty's back, head held high. It's as if his words die before it even reaches her ears. It seems he'll have to gain her trust even more so, but yet she still grips tightly onto his hands.

"Okay, dears, the doors are going to open, you will follow me, the Peacekeepers will come and make a path for us." Kitty tells them, still facing the doors fixing her hair. "Follow me and it will be just fine."

The Peacekeeper towards her side presses a button, and the silver doors open slowly and the last thing Klay sees clearly is the pink bow on Kitty's head. His eyes immediately shut, the flashing of cameras flooding his vision, and even between the flashes his eyes can't focus on anything other than a blur of colours.

The only thing that's reassuring is Ashley's tight grip on his hands, the only sense he's feeling as his other senses overloading his eyes; the air and the atmosphere filling his nose with different aromas and odours; the taste in the air a cleaner less humid taste in comparison to his home; his ears ringing from the noise and chatter of all and everything, Klay not being able to understand any of them.

He could barely hear himself think as he rushes forward, brief flashes of the pathway towards a tall building is the only thing he could see along with the Peacekeepers pushing obsessed fans out of the way. All of these people for him? That's impossible, he's relatively unknown even in his district.

He doesn't look back, to the train, he couldn't if he tries to. The feeling of Ashley's hand reassuring himself that she's still hanging on. Their feet trudging on bright concrete, and into the building opposite where they stopped.

They make it inside and all of a sudden everything becomes quiet, as if the last five minutes of cacophonous, flashing and odoriferous event didn't even happen. Most of his senses are returning to him, a few blobs in his vision appearing from the corner of his eyes is still there, and his ears still ringing like a school bell.

He couldn't help but see Ashley's panicked and wide-eyed face. "Hey, are you okay?"

Ashley regains her composure, looking away from Klayton's scrutinising eyes. "Yes."

She pushes past him moving towards Kitty and sits by the wall, pristine white in colour shimmering almost from the bright lights. She slides down the wall, putting her hand against her face. He swears he could hear a large sigh coming from his district partner.

He follows her actions, sliding beside her. He couldn't help but notice the way Ashley slides further away from him, the total opposite of what she was doing when the Peacekeepers were around. His vision coming back from all the photosensitivity. His eyes adjusting to a brightly lit large hallway. He's looking around, no person in sight other than Ashley and their escort.

Everything is polished to gleam and shine. Even the floor he sits on is cleaner than anything he's ever had the pleasure to sit on. Kitty sighs as she looks down at the two of them, "Well that went well."

"What happens next?"

"Now, we wait." Kitty says hands on her hips. "I wish you two would get up, the floor is filthy!"

"Wait for who?" Ashley goes to ask.

"For the stylists, of course!" Kitty exclaims. "You're going to love them, down-to-earth and fashion geniuses, the both of them."

"You spoil us too much, Kitty."

The voice is soft and comforting, as everyone turns to face the mysterious figure that apparently appeared out of nowhere. "Hello."

The lady is dressed moderately, all in black contrasting the very building they're in. She gives everyone a small wave and a smile, fixing her suit jacket as she does so. A business suit on someone from the Capitol, Klay could never understand the type of fashion everyone has.

"Mallory Cabanes, at your service." She smiles and Klayton nearly expects her to bow, but she doesn't. "My sister is running late but follow me and we can get you both ready for tonight's main event."

"Klay, dear, Mallory will be your stylists for the rest of your duration here." Kitty interjects both Klay and Ashley standing up to greet Mallory. "Ash, honey, yours will be arriving later, it seems."

"Nice to meet you ma'am." Klay greets with a nod of his head, and it makes Mallory giggle, confusing Klay.

"Just Mal is enough, none of this 'ma'am' stuff." She says hiding her smile behind her hand, taking a strand of her purple hair with the other and sweeping it away. "Come now, guys, no time like the present."

They begin to follow the stylist, both him and Ash trailing behind the two. Now that he had time to compose himself, Klay could feel the nervousness build. They're in the Capitol, the next few days might be their last days on this planet.

"What do you think of her?" Klay asks Ash, nodding his head towards the stylist, voice barely above a whisper. "She seems okay to me."

"I need to get to know her," Ash eyes Mallory, watching her every step. "People can be very deceiving."

"Okay, then…"

The silence begins to creep in again, the only sound Klay can hear are their own footsteps hitting the polished floors of what he now assumes is the Remake centre. His eyes scanning every nook and cranny he passes by, any hallway that's illuminated he peers into.

They eventually stop, Klay's eager brown eyes looking at two metallic doors, silver and brightly reflecting the lights. The numbers '11' in big black script on both the doors. He looks at each of them in turn, trying to find the difference between them, there's none.

"Now Klay, if you follow me, and Ash, darling, you go through the other door with Kitty."

"I'll see you on the other side." Klay tells Ash, who only offers her nod of agreement before disappearing behind the metallic doors with Kitty.

"She feels nervous." Mallory states as they too walk into the room behind the door.

"She's just not good with new people, I think."

The room is cold, or temperate, the first part of the room is tiled from floor to ceilings. Various grey pipes run across the walls like rivers and tributaries; connecting to different shower heads and various switches. A dim light overhead makes everything looks creepy.

"I'm a little intimidated by all of these." He points at the shower heads and pipes.

"Don't be." Mal smiles at him, caring and compassionate. "I'll walk you through each process, so it's less hassle."

"Thanks." Klay could feel the palms of his hand become moist.

"We actually have a couple of minutes till my assistants come to help me." Mal tells him, taking off her suit jacket. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Oh, um, well I'm fourteen, but have been working since I was eight." He opens up about himself, scratching the back of his neck.

"That must have been hard." She says, a frown on her face. "I could never dream of your situation."

"It's because you'll never be in my situation." He says, bluntly, his no filter mouth running off again.

"Regardless, I can sympathise with your situation, I'm not some airheaded Capitolite like Kitty." She tells him coming closer, her purple eyes looking Klay up and down. She ties up her loose hair into a high ponytail and gives another reassuring smile.

"Now, strip for me."

* * *

**A/N - And with that, that's all the 24 tributes, present and accounted for!**

**I got this far, might as well finish the story, huh? It looks like things are developing well between some of the tributes, not a lot of trusting going on though. Maybe they'll be better when they all meet during training. Anyway, the next chapter of this story is an interlude chapter, going back to our Elbert Korando.**

**Then after that it should be the chariots! I have not planned out when that will come out, or what the outfits are going to be, so stay tuned. It seems my update schedule is literally one chapter a month, that's rookie numbers. I need to crank it up.**

**Like I said, that's all the 24 tributes. Which one is one your list? Any expectations for each of them? Is it too early to predict an early winner? Leave me a like/dislike chart or whatever.**

**See you next chapter!  
~Alec**


	12. Chapter 7: Different Aims

_"People with different aims could always be pitted against one another"  
~Susan Dennard_

* * *

_**Elbert Korando  
Deputy Head Gamemaker  
The Capitol**_

* * *

The atmosphere has changed in recent months. It's livelier, the air sweet smelling and the staff a lot happier. Most, if not all, have all moved on from their previous boss's death, supposed death. Elbert Korando, however, is still the same old person as he always has been.

It's hard to be mean towards his new boss now, despite him trying, because she has been nothing but nice to everyone else, as well as him. Elbert still suspects her of doing a lot of things behind his back, in fact all his ideas have been countered by her on numerous occasions. Not feeling that his ideas are truly his own, there's always a Vidia tweak to it.

That's not to say that they haven't found compromise, they have. Theodora designs the main features of the arena, where her ideas flourish and whatever else she has planned in their proposed arena. Elbert, on the other hand, is designing the other parts, mainly the unnecessary things, or the ones that won't affect the arena too much if it goes too wrong.

He doesn't mind completely, he's free enough to manage the day to day life of their ever growing office. He actually likes having all of these people in their office, Rexton was great at ideas and implementation, but the man had been too paranoid to trust this big an office alone.

A loud sigh escapes his lips, turning his black leather seat to face the other buildings from the Capitol's skyline. The central part of the city is busy and bustling as the tributes arrived safely during the early mornings. The train station from his own view was certainly busy when he walked in earlier.

There are large crowds gathering outside the Remake Center; the tributes getting ready for a life changing event, as they parade across the city circle, in front of the whole of Panem. Whereas he and the rest of his staff work at the last touches of the arena.

Tribute Parade, something that Rexton also announced way back then, an innovative idea that showcases all the tributes to the wider Panem. A way for the rich Capitolite to throw their endless supply of money at the tributes, which helps flourish the Capitol; it's genius, really.

He watched the reactions of the Capitolites in the news today. They showcased all the tributes, some looking scared and others more confident, and others just as dazed and confused when they were reaped. He liked the ones that showed fear for he knows that fear can be used as a weapon, just as much as any other emotions.

Elbert wishes he can just stay and gaze at the clouds, that litter the clear blue skies of the Capitol, all day. Watch the tiny people from his high tower as they zip and zoom to their place of work. Unfortunately he has to work, and with literal days left until the Bloodbath, they're really tight for time.

It's even more pressing now that most of his staff are leaving to get ready for the Tribute Parade. Everyone has been excited ever since the Reapings, when everyone has had a chance to look at all the tributes in this year's Games.

No one standing out to Elbert in particular, he'll wait until the interview on the night before the Games; then he'll decide which one he's rooting for. As far as he's aware for now, the tributes are all just poor unfortunate souls, dragged by the neck of Lady Panem into an arena to fight to the death; all in the name of entertainment.

A course finger runs across his lips, he looks at his hands, his mind doubting himself somewhat. Everyone in this office remembers his best-friend, Rexton, so well, yet, he's just a fading memory to them now.

However, he still thinks of him often, thinks that he'll just walk back into the office and demand his job back. Elbert Korando does not think that his close friend is not dead; that he's very much alive.

He works tirelessly every day; looking at new information about Rexton's whereabouts during the night and working as a Gamemaker during the day. He's running on nothing but coffee and energy drinks, the occasional lunch date with his parents too.

He rubs the dark spots around his eyes, his weight decreasing by the days, although still maintaining that healthy disposition. His only motivation in life is finding Rexton Price even if it kills him; which might very well happen to him.

He has a few leads so far, that no one can confirm that the body at the site is Rexton's. Apparently, the poor person was burnt alive. He finds that hard to believe that a body can burn in a large high rise apartment without triggering the fire alarms.

So, his working theory is that he escaped but is captured by the Capitol. The body burnt to a crisp by the time the news circulated throughout the whole Capitol. He suspects several people for this and he's trying to find dirt on each of them.

He slams his hands on his own desk, the mahogany trembling and the loose pencils fly out of the cup on his desk. A couple of the workers passing by his office give him a look of worry but he flashes them a quick smile and then they leave him be.

They all must think it's a stressful job, being directly under the Head Gamemaker must not be good for one's health. His hair, he notices, is greying slightly despite being younger than Theodora by some years, who still has perfectly coloured brown hair.

There are other things he stresses about, despite Theodora being nicer to him, her teasing dying down within the last couple of months, she too is stressing over the Games. This is her maiden Hunger Games after all, everything is riding on her debut; popularity is everything in this cutthroat occupation.

Theodora Vidia is pressured by the Capitol, the President and the whole of Panem to deliver a better Hunger Games than her predecessor did; and Elbert knows how much of an impact Rexton had over the Hunger Games, so she has a lot on her plate.

It's not helping how her workload is now spilling over to him too, the press releases, the interviews; nothing about the arena though. He sighs thinking about their other workers, all leaving early because he had approved it ages ago.

Theodora was against it, and that's one of the reasons why he is more popular amongst their peers. She would have wanted everyone working all day if she was left fully in charge, all because she's hellbent on making the best ever Hunger Games.

Another sigh as he takes the light brown folder on his desk, of all the final touches from his section of the Hunger Games arena, filed in a neat alphabetical format. He heads straight for Theodora's office, without as much as stopping for anyone coming up to him.

"Knock, knock." He says, a faux smile on his face, and she too returns it, not quite reaching her dark brown eyes.

"Elbert, what news have you for me?" She says putting down a crisp white letter onto her desk, Rexton's old desk.

"Nothing much just that your car is waiting at the lobby." He says moving closer and sitting on one of the two dark seats in front of her desk. "You have two interviews today before the Tribute Parade."

"Good." She sighs standing up from her seat, taking with her the handbag on her desk as well as her jacket that's draped over her seat. "Finish up here and have the rest of the day, you deserve it."

She pats him on the shoulder, uncharacteristically, and leaves for her two interviews. The sound of her heels clicking. The office is fairly empty now, most of their other workers leaving around lunchtime or just after.

He's left alone in her office, him putting down the folder on her desk. She looks around, Rexton's own office space, his first and last office space, in full view, different but the same. There's now a picture of Theodora's kids on her desk, as opposed to Rexton and him during their graduation.

He traces tanned fingertips on the polished dark oak desk, the sensation sends tingles up his arm like touching a wire fence. Once he's sure there's no one else in the office he springs into action, looking through the documents on her desk.

Anything to say what she's planning, or anything about his Rexton. He traipses quietly like a thief in the night, searching through cabinets; finding nothing but empty wrappers of candy bars, and empty orange bottles of prescription pills.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Elbert turns around at the voice, dark and menacing. His hands, cold as it is, trembles at the sound of the voice and he turns to see Jacob Phob, his blonde hair dirtier than he could ever remember. The smile on his face can make anyone swoon yet hides a sinister intent.

Elbert swallows the lump in his throat and breathes out the breath he didn't even know he is holding as he puts on a faux smile. He must look very suspicious by now, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, searching through his boss' belongings.

He can see the man walk towards him, slowly. His brown leather shoes seem heavy on the dark blue carpet, his suit jacket unbuttoned over a white shirt, if he squints anymore, he swears he can see the dirt on the untucked shirt.

"Let me ex-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Jacob attacks his lips with his own. Coarse lips against Elbert's own soft ones. The kiss is rushed and messy, no one particularly wanting it to end, despite the surprise that was initially on Elbert's face.

They fight for dominance over the kiss, Jacob pushing and pulling at anything he can grab with his calloused hands. His eyes open revealing light brown, full of lust, as they separate. Elbert's own dark brown mirrors his look.

Jacob looks away first, looking at the desk that belongs to Theodora and walks towards it. Ebert's hands rise to his lips, wet with kisses, he notes the desperation in the actions of Jacob as he watches the man closely.

"Are you okay?" He asks him and he looks at him as if he had just entered the room.

"Yeah…"

There's a sadness in the tone but he doesn't press further. Although their fling and several rendezvous have been going on for months now it still surprises him whenever they kiss, although they have feelings for each other, or at least that is what Elbert thinks, the other man never seem to act on them other than just sex.

He walks closer to the man and gives him a chaste kiss on his lips. He goes to deepen the kiss but he stops it by pulling away from the man, his eyes look hurt but Elbert gives him a reassuring smile. He travels his hands towards Jacob's own calloused hands.

"Not here." He says to him with a smile.

'_Not in the office of my late best friend.'_

They turn to leave the office, Jacob smiling a little as he lets Elbert pull him along, out of the office. Elbert takes the light brown folder from the desk, along with several other letters that's on Theodora's desk.

Like he says, he doesn't suspect that Theodora is to be wholly trusted just yet. He doesn't think Jacob is to be trusted either, but at least he can keep a close eye on him, and maybe even get information on Penelope Deim too.

* * *

_**Penelope Deim  
President's Assistant  
Club Valentino's**_

* * *

_Two Hours Earlier_

She detests this part of the Capitol. Beggars and junkies litter the roads like rats as she stomps across cracked pavements to enter the infamous Club Valentino's. It's flashy neon signs sparks warmth into her soul, enough to want to make her vomit as she pushes the door open.

It's quiet.

At least people have the common sense not to drink at nine in the morning, she clambers up two steps heels subdued by the sticky red carpet. She notes that she may just give away these shoes to her sister after she is done with this errand.

She approaches the bar. Someone cleaning the same surface, the intent of looking busy as his face lights up at the sight of a customer. Although once she comes closer to the counter the man's face turns sour as he stops his surface cleaning.

"Penelope," he sneers at her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where is he Caligula?" She starts without even acknowledging the question. "Where is Jacob?"

She swears she can see the man's face contort into annoyance but he shields it well with a smile on his face. He takes a glass and pours cold water within it. She slides it over to Penelope, who eyes it suspiciously.

"It's to wake him up." He says. "Was fighting with someone again last night, passed out in the back alleyway."

Penelope sighs and tucks the clipboard that she was holding under her arm, grabs the glass and walks towards the backdoor of the club. She didn't sign up to be Jacob Phob's keeper, she signed up so she can be the next President of Panem.

She pushes the door open, fast and loud as she sees her partner-in-crime on the ground, messy hair, blonde filled with dirt. His shirt stained with something, be it blood or other bodily fluids. She walks closer to him, her face contorting into anger as she pours the cold water slowly onto the man's face.

"What the fuck!?" He swears as he brushes away the water from his face, his eyes darting around as he stands up quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"You have errands to run." She says plain and simple handing the man the empty glass. "You're to meet up with Elbert in the next two hours."

"Yeah, yeah." He says wiping his face with his white shirt.

"What were you doing here anyway?" She asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He flashes her a cheeky side smile with a raise of his dark blonde eyebrows.

"Never mind." She says turning around.

"You not going to give me a lift back to Central?" He says arms wide open.

"You got here just fine you can get yourself back." She says with a smile on her face that puts the devil to shame.

She pushes the door open again, leaving the expletives Jacob is shouting at her. She makes her way back to Caligula. Her second errand is to hand the man she despises so much a letter from the President himself.

"You still here?" The man's smile falters slightly when she hands him a letter.

"What's this?"

"A letter from Julius Nepos."

"Fancy." He mocks as he opens it, reading it to himself. "What do you want me to do when they say 'no'?"

"The victors?" She says, eyebrow raised. "Just tell them it's the rule from now on."

She doesn't wait for a reply, there are far too many things she could be doing. She walks out of the building with frown on her face. Her red skirt might have dirt from the lower Capitol on it, something she doesn't want.

She pats down the smudges of her skirt as she takes out her phone to call the car. She looks around the derelict buildings, wondering how such a building can survive in such an abandoned part of the Capitol.

When she becomes President of Panem, her first decree is to get rid of this detestable building, along with it the drunk, addicts and beggars. She will make the Capitol a shining beacon that can be recognised as the best city that ever existed.

Her aims are clear and she has no problem sacrificing people to get there.

* * *

**A/N - Short chapter, an interlude for the Chariots!**

**I need to plan it still so it may take a while.**

**See you soon,**

**Alec**


	13. Chapter 8: Too much Attention

_"I don't like people looking at me; I hate the attention."  
~Cathy Freeman_

* * *

_**Antonio Barracks, 18, District Two**_

* * *

Crowds have never been his thing, and he thinks it will never be his thing, yet, as he finishes off with the stylists, five differing faces all with their unique style attends to him. Putting on the finishing touches to his outfit; powdering his nose, and his hair and whatever else is exposed to the small giggling group of multicoloured creatures in front of him.

They say that the stylists for Two were one of the best, or so says his escort, Jean Temples, as he praised them to the high heavens during the train ride over. He just listens, never interjecting during the whole journey to the Capitol.

He thinks it unnecessary to listen to everyone talking and gabbing. His district partner sure did not stop talking about herself the duration of the journey. He can tell that she's trying hard to not let the conversation die, but when all Antonio Barracks wants is to be left alone it makes his district partner frustrated.

"Just the helmet to go and that will be you!" His main stylist, Virgil Trabea, says to him and for the first time in the last two hours Tony could breathe.

He places a crown, made of golden leaves upon his head, covering up that dark hair, now covered with every hair product the Capitol had to offer. He stands up from the swivel chair, feeling clean yet unclean at the same time. His hazel eyes look to the mirror and he barely recognises the boy in front of him.

Behind him, Virgil smiles proudly looking at his latest work. The leaves shine a brilliant colour under the light, his face unlike his normal unshaven face, now completely shaved and smooth. He feels his face, feeling the smoothness of it all; reminding him of how his friend Ivor always had.

He closes his eyes at the thought of his friends. He doesn't want distractions now, especially when there's so few days left until the Hunger Games. He continues to look downwards at the rest of the outfit, and he begins to doubt whether Virgil is such a renowned stylist at all.

His midriff is on display, the gold chest plate doesn't quite end at his hips, instead showing off his muscular stature. His abdominal muscles in display, tanner than his usual olive skin too. The outfit is completed with a metallic style skirt and golden sandals to match everything else.

"You look dashing." He says eyeing him up and down, and all Tony can think of is how any of this can be practical. "Let's get you out there."

He doesn't feel at all 'dashing', he steps behind Virgil as the man colourful as his fellow stylists, leads him towards the elevator. His impression of the Capitol so far is just him following people about. What he really wants to do is talk to his mentor, Adrestia Stark, about the next steps for the Games.

"Well here we are!" Virgil exclaims, the man leading Tony into what seems like a large open cave.

The smell of horses fills the air, enough to turn Virgil's nose away. He pats Tony's back and pushes him towards the general direction of where he should be going. He doesn't look back at the escort, it's not his priority.

He walks past numerous golden chariots all tied to horses. He can hear them whinnying and neighing as he passes each of them. He eventually manages to find his designated chariot; the dead giveaway is the curious lift of the eyebrow from his district partner; Diana.

"Nice abs." She says as she drops down from the chariot to admire him.

He doesn't feel uncomfortable, not in the slightest, but in this sense, he does feel like he's being watched. Not just by Diana but everyone else within the vicinity. He looks away from her and she coos at him.

"Pretty boy Tony doesn't like the attention?" She giggles and Tony just accepts it. "I don't like this anymore than you do but if it can get us sponsors, then so be it."

Her outfit mirrors his own, the skirt is shorter than his, showing off her legs. Her hair could not be anymore fiery as it is now, shaped atop her head. The golden leaf crown encircles the redness, trapping the flame.

Her incessant talking is not what he needs at this moment in time. He had already decided it upon himself not to interact with her until necessary, but if they're going to be stuck together for the duration of the Hunger Games then he's going to have a problem.

The plan to be aloof from anyone he interacts with, whether that be to protect them or himself. He wants to rely on nobody other than him. A true loner at heart. He tries to ignore his district partner's cheeriness but there's something about the woman that compels him to reply, either that be with a nod or one-word answers.

Either that or the girl just can't stop talking, which is evident of the recent fight she had before the Reaping had begun. She mainly said it during breakfast time this morning, but she never divulged on it, until now.

"Anyway, so these two students try their best to pin me down," she says looking at him with chocolate eyes. "But I'm too quick for both of them, what with my training being two years advanced than these sixteen-year-olds."

Diana isn't the quiet girl that Tony expected her to be when he saw her volunteer at the Reapings a day or so ago now. He thinks she's far more talkative than Naomi has ever been. He just looks at her, with a silent indifference to his face, but she ignores that and continues to babble.

He tries to step back and he trips over his shoes again, earning a giggle from Diana. He says he's not uncomfortable but now that more tributes are walking into the area, the more unnerving feeling start to seep in. Him being conscious of the skirt, pulling it down to not reveal too much.

He fixes the crown on his head, and he stops to wonder why he is so suddenly conscious of his appearance. He doesn't look at anyone else, none of the tributes, so far, have piqued his interest. He only has one person in his head and he's not about to think of them again.

"Hey, what do you think of the tributes that are piling in?" Diana points to some of the younger kids.

He feels a bit relieved at the prospect of wearing these ridiculous outfits, after seeing ones that are worse off than his own. He doesn't give an opinion out loud, but he ignores all the stares that are now suddenly on him; he ignores them, he's used to it, just like being back at home.

He climbs the chariot and Diana follows suit, both tributes sitting on the silver chair. That's when he notices a shift in Diana's overall presence, what was the once bubbly personality turns serious. She looks him in the eye once more as she begins to speak.

"You know this lack of communication can get us killed, right?" She asks him, or rather pointed it out.

"Yeah." He replies then looks back at the tributes staring at him, some look away whilst others continue to stare in defiance of him, as if to say they're not afraid of him.

She only huffs at his response, folding her arms as she joins in on looking at the tributes. Her eyebrows narrow and focus on certain tributes, eventually landing on the pair from Nine. Their golden outfits mirror theirs but instead of precious metals theirs is of wheat.

"He looks strong." She says pointing at the Nine boy who is also looking around for other tributes, sizing them up.

Tony eyes them curiously too, the odd feeling of wanting to eat bread arises from his mind. Strange as it is coming from someone like him. He agrees that the boy does look strong, although he doesn't say a word back to Diana.

The boy shines a brilliant gold, exposed torso made to glean with every light, and a wheat skirt dancing with the gust of wind that occasionally makes their way in. He can tell that he has some form of a caring personality, eyeing him further as he is seen consoling his district partner, who looks sad, she smiles at him talking to her and they go together and climb their chariots.

"We should start to think of alliances." Diana says looking for more potential threats, talking to herself more than at Tony.

"Is that our cue then?"

The Two pair turns around to find the One pair looking them both in the eyes, hazel and blue eyes shining brightly at them both. Smiles as wide as Diana's fake ones from earlier, grinning from ear to ear, however, unlike Diana's both of theirs are inviting.

You couldn't make it anymore biblical if you tried. The Ones dressed by their stylists as angels, golden rope tied around their clothed waist. Their hair dyed a golden blonde, almost as bright as the sun itself. Angels approaching Roman soldiers, a classic.

"Velvet Ecletant, District One." She says looking at the both of them up and down. "This, beside me, is Carnelian Wolfe, my district partner; and we have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?"

"An alliance." She says plain and simple. "District One, Two and maybe Four, so that our districts can claim all the spoils these Games have to offer."

Tony thinks about it, acknowledging the proposal. He can remember his mentor mentioning this during their brief talk on the train. He considers it before she can even ask him for his opinions, clinging to every word his mentor says like gospel.

Whereas he passively listens to Diana during most of the time, he actively tries to listen to every word Adrestia says to him. Devoted to her as if she's some sort of Goddess that can lead him to victory.

"What do you think, Tony?" She asks him, her eyes unreadable at this moment in time.

He doesn't like crowds, and he's quite sure of it, but if this helps him get back to his home then he'll bear with it. Allies are never his thing, and he'll speak to them very little just like he treats Diana now; he sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

"Whatever gets me home faster."

Carnelian laughs at his response. He looks at him and he can feel him look back, giving him a slight jitters. Golden, angelic hair with bright blue eyes looking right at him. He can get lost in them, making the world around him serene.

"My type of person." He says. "I told you that you talk too much, Vel."

"Ignore him." She says, nudging him a bit too hard. "He's just stuck in a rut with his whole life."

"I told you that in secret!" Carnelian shouts with a smile on his face, seemingly not crossed with the whole situation.

"Why don't we give you a day to think about it? If you decide to go for the alliance, then we'll go from there."

"Sounds good." Diana eyes her up and down, scanning her like a hawk already, the facade of an angel not fooling her.

However, Tony is looking at her in admiration, slight admiration. Her cotton robe wrapped with golden rope at the waist, yellow stained diamonds acts as her wings. The Ones have won the best outfit in his eyes, and he couldn't help but think of the potential sponsors they might have by the end of the night.

They take their leave, like divine beings they glance once more at their potential teammates and walk back to their chariots.

"What do you think of them?" Diana asks him. "And don't give me those one-word answers you love so much."

"They look strong." He sighs. "Her especially, the other one, I don't know yet."

"Well it's obvious she wants to be the leader of this 'alliance'." She huffs. "That's if it comes to fruition."

"I don't care who is in charge." He sighs again. "So long as it can guarantee us that we'll reach the finishing line."

That's probably the most he's said to her so far as he goes back to eye more of the other tributes, the effects of the angels wearing off on him. He wants to see how many younger tributes there are, the ones that he has to try and avoid killing.

Until there's no choice left.

* * *

_**Lily Mendoza, 17, District Four**_

* * *

It's over, the punishing offences of around eight different pairs of hands assaulting every part of her body is finally over. Her stylist, Dia Danton, takes no prisoners. Her scrutinising prismatic blue eyes undress her thinking of what she can do to her, evidently a lot.

Her 'treatment' is nothing like she had experienced before, and Lily Mendoza has been through a lot already despite being only seventeen years of age. She has all the scars, physically and emotionally, to prove it all.

However, what remains is just her emotions, every single blemish or scars she has procured over the last couple of years melt away with the body scrub that her stylist applied to her. The dizzying scents of honey and other smells she could not think of continues to scramble her brain as she still feels their disorienting effects.

Never mind the Hunger Games, the real dangers are those Capitolites that take their jobs seriously. She remembers speaking over her once and that earned Lily a blast of warm water to her face and the rest of her body. She didn't even have time to speak to her stylist after that, to protest, as she continues her onslaught of makeup and powders, and for what?

She adjusts her brassiere again, made of two large clam shells to cover most of her assets whilst also trying to appeal to the male audience. Lily couldn't help but roll her eyes the moment she saw her entire outfit in front of her.

Lily Mendoza has never been so uncomfortable in her life as she continues to turn away from all the gazes being sent her way; the Two pair, the Eleven boy…everyone. Her sea foam coloured skirt, scaly like a mermaid's tail is the only thing protecting her lower half.

She was warned, both by Triton and her own mentor, Arlo, about Dia. The stylist with the white yet shiny hair takes her job so seriously that her partner in crime, Caremllo Duval, just agrees with her. She's in charge of the whole situation, and despite all of this Lily admires the woman.

Lily traverses the grounds after stepping off the metal elevator. She's barefoot too, the sand sticking to her feet, and her long skirt. It feels calming, however, reminding her of home. There's no water though, but it still reminds her of Four.

She's not normally this embarrassed, and not normally this quiet either, but if you're dressed like some fool by your deceptively smart stylist on a cold summer night then you start to question your whole life. She makes her way past other chariots, horses and tributes; all just stare at her and nothing else.

Thank goodness for the glitter covering her entire body and the rosy cheeks Dia had put on her for she knows that she's blushing hard right now. She stops by their designated chariot. A mermaid mid transformation, a powerful mythological creature, or so Dia tells her.

She doesn't feel powerful walking practically naked from the waist up across such a big area. Teenage boys and girls looking at her with awe and disgust, others in some weird form of lust. It's all a bit too much for her, and she doesn't feel at all confident like mermaids.

Her hair is the only thing she likes, however, with long curly hair, brown in colour yet they look like waves as various sizes and colours of shells caught up in all of them. It again reminds her of her home, reminds her of the sea she simultaneously hates and love.

Merrick is already there, dressed in a sailor's uniform, although it's in tatters. His hat is missing and the edges of his shorts and shirt are ripped. After seeing him, Lily doesn't feel as bad now for he's drenched in water.

"It's not drying, and I removed all the seaweed that hung on me." He says to her as she climbs the chariot to sit on their seat.

"At least you have clothes," she says comparing each other. "I rather that than shell bras."

This is the first time she gets to see how athletic in build Merrick is, for he wore such baggy clothes when they were in the train. He looks muscled in different areas where the shirt is ripped, for a boy that's only fifteen she can tell that he's trained a lot.

"So, what's our story supposed to be?" He asks her and she tilts her head.

"I'm a mermaid and you're a sailor." She says plainly. "I think Dia mentioned how mermaids would sing to sailors, hypnotising them with their voice making them steer their ships towards their melody."

"And then they crash?"

"Yeah, because they mermaids, or sirens, would sit atop rocks that no ship can sustain."

"Are they hinting something, our stylist?"

"I wouldn't take it to heart." She says folding her arms over her breasts to stop the other tributes from looking. "I'm sure they just needed to make up a costume for everyone."

She doesn't say it outright, but she's smart enough to know that Merrick dying early is a possible outcome during the Hunger Games. Although he has the muscle and mentality, she fears that he doesn't have the skills to make it far in the Games.

"At least the seaweed completes your look." Merrick stifles a laugh, breaking the tension between them before she hits him lightly, her removing every single seaweed she can see.

"Well at least my outfit doesn't make me look like a complete child." She retorts as she throws the seaweed at Merrick.

They stay silent for a moment, Lily trying sort out all the seaweed, some of it dropping on the chariot and the others being thrown over at the sand. She's going to have to face the wrath of Ms. Danton later on.

It's taking her this long to realise that the once sickeningly sweet soaps and cream that she smelt are now of fish and the ocean. She loves the smell but at the same time in comparison to her heavenly smells from earlier, the sea scent is making her nauseous.

Merrick couldn't help but giggle again earning another smack from her, she tries to look dignified, as much as you can do when you're on show in front of twenty-three other tributes in what seems like the skimpiest outfit.

She notices that the stares are dying out, and the atmosphere of the entire chariot area is turning to one of excitement and dread. The speakers warning all the tributes that there's only five minutes left until the show begins, and that to start climbing their chariots in preparation.

"Did you see the Ones and Twos?" Merrick mentions and she immediately snaps her eyes to the front, past the Three tributes who look to be dressed like a bride and a groom.

The angelic figures who were talking to the Roman soldiers earlier all looked strong, and she notices how Merrick changes facades quickly from worried back to his 'big boy' one. "They do look strong, not going to lie about that."

"I'm just as strong as them." He scoffs, and Lily tries to stop her eyes from rolling and instead ignores the comment, as she continues to scan the rest of the tributes as they all file inside their chariots.

"We never got to why you volunteered, did we?" She asks suddenly out of the blue, as she looks at anyone but Merrick when she speaks.

"Didn't we? I think I remember saying I was ready."

"Are you still feeling that way? Especially now that all the tributes are here?" She asks again.

"Yes, of course!" He hesitated for a moment and Lily recognised that easily.

"Okay then." She says as she eyes the Three tributes once more.

Their outfits begin to light up, the black outfit of the boy begins to strobe and flash a different colour and the veil that the girl is wearing look divine as it too begins to flash different colours. Slowly as if it's a pulse, hiding her beautiful face underneath, and if she focuses enough, she can tell how worried she looks, and how the boy comforts her.

Seeing that reminds her of how her father told her that he doesn't want to lose another daughter again. How she promises him that she can do it, that she can find the spirit within her to win. She promises to her father that he would never lose another daughter again. She can do this to help her own mother.

"Hey," Merrick snaps her from her thoughts and she can feel the grip on the metallic side of the chariot loosen. "What do you think of the other tributes?"

"I noticed that the Eleven girl was arguing with her district partner on my walk up to here, they might not get on very well." She says, rubbing her hands together. "The Ten girl was crying to her obviously big district partner."

"What is that observation?" Merrick sighs as he stares forward at the Ones and Twos again.

Lily only shakes her head, one of the things she learns from her father is to never reveal your secrets and observations to anyone, even your potential teammates. It'll give everything away and she needs to keep her own information to herself; and that includes her poor district partner.

She already knows his obvious weakness: his unpreparedness into the world of the Hunger Games. She can tell from just how the Eleven girl argues and how her hand flexes, despite under a ridiculous brown outfit, she can see it tense and that there's obvious muscle tone under there.

She's nothing but observant when it comes to analysing her opponents, she's quite good at it. The Ten pair is an unfortunate duo. The Ten girl is a goner for sure, with how much she cries, and she can tell from her red eyes. The boy has potential though, but she doesn't think he would last long if he's going to ally with the girl.

Information that she gathers about everyone else so early on in the competition is crucial, that's one of the lessons her father drills into her head day in and day out, other than making her lose her emotions. Her mentor reiterates this too, before being subjected to Dia Danton.

"I think-"

Her voice is interrupted by a loud static followed by the steward speaking loudly on the speaker announcing that the Tribute Parade is about to begin. She just keeps her mouth shut, taking whatever, she has to say to her until later on. She prepares herself to fix her entire outfit once more, Merrick copying her and doing the same.

Merrick then looks ahead, Lily following his gaze as the big metal doors begin to slide open, a sliver of bright light enters quickly blinding those that stare directly at it, the dark clear sky of night time Capitol is drowned by the flashing lights and the noise is immense, enough to make Lily's heart boom at the sound of the drumming.

It's reminiscent of the time they got off at the train station this morning, the flashing just a little bit more subdued and the noise just a tiny bit quieter. Her eyes, brown as her complexion, could still visualise what's ahead of her, and as the door completely opens and the chariots begin to move one by one Dia Danton's words come to her head.

"Remember to smile and wave, do not, under any circumstances, frown!"

"That's a pretty good impression of her." Merrick snickers.

"I can be funny." She smiles as their chariot begins to pull forward at a steady pace.

Not once will Lily Mendoza frown at the crowd; especially if it's a matter of life and death.

* * *

_**Chevelle Wheeler, 16, District Six**_

* * *

She did not think that the night can get any worse than this. The night sky is clear, and it's cold as the chariots walk at a slow pace. It would help if not for the fact that both her corneas are on fire from all the flashing of the lights.

She doesn't think she's completely recovered from this morning and all she wants to do is get off this chariot and run away, but she knows all too well that there's serious consequences that will lead to that.

Chevelle Wheeler has been angry at everything ever since stepping foot inside the Justice Building. The only time she feels anything else other than anger is when she's alone with her thoughts, and even then, her mind convinces her that she should be raging at the Capitol, and raging she is.

Not only is she near blind now, but her eardrums feel like they're about to burst any second now as the loud cheering and the sound of heavy drumming eats away at her ear. She hates this and everything about it all.

Her senses being overwhelmed is only the tip of the iceberg as she tries her best to look at the crowds in front of her. She doesn't see any faces, nor would she want to with their makeup caked faces and crazy clothing.

Oh, how she misses her leather jacket and her black boots, the two most comforting things she has and the ones that remind her of home, if Six can be considered home to her. All Six has ever done to her is make her into the spiteful girl that she has become, one that ended up possibly murdering that man from before the Reapings.

She doesn't pay that no heed, not just now when she's very angry at what the Capitol has done to her entire being. How her stylist pulls her hair, body, everything about her just to make her into someone presentable to the Capitol. It sickens her slightly, just thinking about how her bruises, the ones that have turned yellow and the others purple all disappear; erasing her past like it was nothing.

To Chevelle, it's not just nothing. Every bruise is a story to her, a reminder of the girl she grew into. Someone that fights for what is right, one that endures her father's beatings every night when she's sleeping on the mattress in their one-bedroom floor.

She's trying not think of home but that's all that's coming to the forefront of her mind, despite being paraded in front of the Capitol like some prize pig. She remembers the stench of her father's breath, the alcoholic smell she will never forget; as well as the vitriolic words that would come out of it.

What follows after that is usually a fist or two, hitting delicate skin grown tough and taught from the years of beatings. She's used to it and as the man leaves her presence her tears would flow, not until she stops it and goes back to sleep.

Her mind snaps back as her name is called upon by the presenter of the entire Hunger Games: Phineus Keenzest. The old bag saying both hers and Cyrus' names and describing how fierce she looks, an opposite of her district partner who is waving silently.

She didn't even pay attention to district Five's introductions, with their clever outfits. The Five tributes are dressed as scientist, only they look dead, or are made to look like the dead. She can see sparks coming out of them from time to time, and the lab coat they both wear are burnt at the edges and have black holes in them.

Kenna and Shade, she recalls, were not the best of friends when she chatted with them briefly whilst waiting for Cyrus. Kenna St. Clair is some stuck-up girl from Five, some rich girl that has her blood boil at how privileged she's acting; at how it's unfair for her to be Reaped into the Hunger Games.

She almost sympathises with Kenna's district partner: Shade Grimoire if not for how moody he is to the both of them, even if she's just there for a friendly chit-chat. She supposes that Shade doesn't want to give anything away, of how skilled he actually is, not that Chevelle thinks he has much skills other than out brooding her.

She notices how other tributes were doing that too earlier. The Two boy and the Four girl especially, they're all analysing their opponents, looking for weaknesses and that's when she marks them as her targets, not to kill but to avoid.

In order to come out on top amongst all of these tributes she needs to be one step ahead, and if she has to do small talk with every tribute here to do that then so be it, even if it doesn't get rid of her overall annoyance.

She feels a strong gust of wind blow at her pony tail, in just the manner that she likes. High and tight, yet it flows. It reflects the light as her stupid stylist have decided that he should paint her hair a silver colour to go with the big metallic jumpsuit she had to put on.

The outfit makes her stand out from their golden chariot, trailing behind the Five tributes, now her vision is being obscured by the falling confetti as it drowns her entire sense of sight. She doesn't hate the Five tributes, despite their strong personalities, not wholly anyway.

In a way Kenna is right, it's the Hunger Games' fault as to why they're all acting this way. She remembers how Kenna mentions that Shade is just apparently a moody individual from the day he was born. Nevertheless, if she was ever thrust into an alliance, despite her telling Cyrus she doesn't want any, she wouldn't mind being in one with these two; perhaps a temporary one to overcome a bigger foe and then she would vanish off into the night.

If they were to ask her in the next couple of days to form an alliance, then she would refuse. She thinks Kenna and Shade would clash more than what they have displayed to her already and adding her personality into the mix wouldn't help in that regards; the alliance would end before it even starts.

She'll have to wait and see in the coming days if she's going to get any offers of an alliance. Now she should go back to aiming death stares at anyone that looks very happy at her, she remembers huffing at what Cyrus had told her after going into the Remake Centre. That they shouldn't feel too bad if they enjoyed everything the Capitol has to offer them.

She huffs again at the memory, folding her arms this time as their chariot begins to slow down in front of a tall building. The high-rise building has one balcony at the very top, a large chair, almost throne like in appearance, is all she can see until the figure of a man appears from behind it.

President Julian Nepos waves at his adoring people, with a smile as charismatic as a prize pony. He looks nothing like the smug face she's used to seeing on the television in the shop she worked in when he won the election, he looked more comfortable with slicked black hair, shining white teeth.

His appearance comes with it a tumultuous applause loud enough that she's sure the neighbouring district One and Two could hear it. He smiles atop his ivory tower waving at his adoring public, the tributes' chariot from behind her are all slowing down too, some looking at him with awe and join in the applause and the others with utter disgust.

He stops his waving, and with it the applauding too, as if he's controlling the entire Capitol with just his presence alone. The atmosphere turns chilly, almost eerie as he moves forward in front of the microphone, ready to speak.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Capitol, Panem, and our dear brave tributes."

She couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine, there's only been one other person that has ever done that to her and she thought she'd escaped and hidden away those feelings; every being in her body is telling her how evil this man is, the hairs on her neck stand up as the chill settles in, the wind seemingly dying in an instant.

"We welcome yet another year of this glorious tradition into our wonderful city. A tradition so ingrained in our mind and heart, that it brings nothing but excitement whenever it comes; year after year."

"Not for the tributes…" She says to herself.

"It is not only special for our dear tributes here, but also for me, as you know, this is my first ever Hunger Games as your leader of our great nation: Panem, and I just cannot contain my excitement." Chevelle notices the grin of this man on one of the bigger screens, his eyes look nothing like the 'excitement' he mentions. "Without further ado, I now declare the Twenty-eight annual Hunger Games…open!"

It ends with another rapturous applause, louder than the one earlier and the horses begin to pull their chariots once more; the confetti begins to rain once more; the music plays once more. It's as if the atmosphere lifts again, dissipating the tense and chill she had felt earlier, although it hasn't been completely erased; it's still there lingering in her skin.

Cyrus stays quiet, also lost in thought as they go back to the Remake Centre where they're going to be staying in the next couple of days. She notices that everyone too is a lot more rattled than she expected, the Fives have stopped talking, or arguing, with each other.

The only ones that are still the same are the ones that applauded earlier. The One tributes and the Two tributes in particular comes to mind as she recalls them listening to the speech with so much gusto. She doesn't understand how they can be so eager to listen to someone that exudes evil.

They arrive back at the stables. Chevelle couldn't put a finger on it, if the rest of the tributes are just drained or if they all felt the collective child when the president began his speech. She knows for sure it stopped the thought that this would be a normal Hunger Games, if you can even say such a thing.

"I think we're in trouble now." Cyrus says as they depart the chariot.

"What makes you think that?" She asks, although it comes off as sarcasm, because in her head she knows it.

"I don't know, but ever since that speech, I just can't shake the feeling that I'm now being watched."

"I see what you mean." She still replies to him, even though she was being sarcastic earlier, but she doesn't think Cyrus is that perceptive at the moment, especially after that event.

There's worry and fear simultaneously rising in her head, as well as anger again when their escort shows up. "Chevelle and Cyrus!"

Their escort, Charles, approaches them both. Giving Cyrus a hug, and Chevelle has to push him away in order to avoid the same fate. She ignores him as she begins to trudge back into the elevator, her anger rising whenever the escort speaks to her.

He just reminds her of how much of a failure district Six is, and if her prediction is correct then both her and Cyrus are doomed if their supposed mentor doesn't pull a finger out and get a move on and teach them something valuable.

"Hey!" Charles shouts at him and Chevelle be damned if she turns around, and she doesn't care about everyone else staring at her too. She stands by the doors and presses the button, Charles and Cyrus catches up to her.

"Chevelle, you don't have to be so rude!" Cyrus exclaims.

"I can and I will!" She crosses her arms. "Look around you, Cyrus, there's at least six of these people that can murder you and me, and possibly everyone else, we need our mentor, we need someone that can tell us how to act in the arena before we get ourselves killed!"

"Now, now children let's not make a sce-" Charles tries his best to calm her, but she continues to shout, maybe in desperation or scaredness, at this point Chevelle doesn't know.

"But you said it in the train, right? He's an addict, he's probably high right now, like some junkie in the streets of Six, or out there looking for the next hit. He's not going to help us!"

The door opens and Chevelle walks in, goes straight for the elevator and presses the button there too. All she wants to do is go to her room and beat the loving hell out of her pillows, scream into it until her throat goes hoarse, picturing her mentor's face.

The iceberg is just slowly unravelling itself, and it's not even the first day of training yet.

* * *

_**Albin Cimber, 17, District Twelve**_

* * *

The lobby is emptying out, slowly but surely. The night winding down; the Capitol crowds going back to their home, having celebrated one of the biggest, probably the only biggest, event of Panem. The tributes all filing into the elevator in district order; except for the Sixes as the girl tirades over the metallic doors before his own chariot grinds to a halt.

The Ones in their angel motifs go in first all the way to the Seven tributes, the benevolent looking girl with a spunky twelve-year-old, one of two this year, with their outstanding outfits. They looked like tree elves or warriors; their entire clothes made to look like leaves with branches as weapons.

It fits the boy from Seven so well, with his boyish looks and small stature. The girl too, with her bushy hair covered in leaves. It symbolises their district very well, better than his and Tey's outfits anyway.

Albin Cimber has never worked a day of his life down at the mines of Twelve and yet he's dressed as one of them, his pale face covered in makeup made to look like coal dust. The yellow hard hat with its flashlight turned on is sitting beside him on one of the seats.

Whereas his district partner is a bit more sinister than him, not dressed in the typical miner's outfit but that of a plain girl, instead her skin is pure porcelain white in colour, along with her dress; not a single ash and coal on her.

There're rumours, or maybe truths, that he hears working in his father's bar as a bartender, of children wandering into the mines, either to die or to look for something, and never coming out of them. He supposes that their stylist has heard of such things and dressed Tey as one of those children, ghosts or apparitions.

He doesn't doubt how clever some of these Capitol can be, they don't all feel like the airhead that is their escort. Speaking of, Louis Ogden is still to make an appearance, the only person he's waiting on to take them up to their living quarters.

That's all he needs, to be alone again. He wants nothing but keep to himself from the moment he gets to the Capitol until the beginning of the Bloodbath. For someone being described as unapproachable by his siblings, Tey Antracit, his district partner had been nothing but talkative to him.

He now only getting respite from her as she wanders over to the Ten tributes a few minutes ago. Her bleached hair, so much more different from her hair the day prior, pairs well into the white walls of the lobby.

There's not a lot of tributes left here, so he feels at ease, not that he shows any form of emotion anyway. The Tens, Elevens, Nines and Eights are the only ones that are left, all waiting for either their escorts or their mentors to come and collect them like parents picking up their children from school.

He doesn't really have much of an opinion on the tributes so far and he doesn't really have the desire to speak to them either. Hence the reason why Tey is becoming such a minor nuisance to him. She's lovely, in a weird sort of way, more odd than anything else, and he remembers their mentor, Thorium Cole, and Louis talking about how she's clinically insane; the former expressing his concern over the whole thing.

She's relentless with her chatting and questioning everything during their train ride that he wanted to say something, anything to keep her away from him but he's cautious of one person. This Peacekeeper that hasn't left her side the whole journey from Twelve to the Capitol.

They're two polar opposites, his face not reacting to any of her questions and him just answering her with one or two words. He could see how exasperated their mentor is already, the hated Thorium Cole from their district, him not having a formal opinion of him.

"Nice outfit." He looks to his right and see the girl from Eight, standing with her hands behind her.

He could say the same for her, not really noticing her outfit earlier but now that she's up close, it's surreal. Her entire dress is coloured white, like Tey's, but there's chunks taken out some of the hem, as if a big drill just took it out. She wears a headband of her eyes, and her waist is supported by a corset of what can only be the other tribute's eyes. It's unsettling to look at.

"Thanks."

The silence creeps back in, he looks back to where he has been watching his district partner with his grey tired eyes. He wonders if she really is insane, or just too innocent for her age. It's interesting how little involvement he wants with her but at the same time be so curious about her situation.

Tey is currently showing off her dress to the Ten girl, who is no longer hiding from her district partner, the towering boy. He looks strong, maybe not as strong as the Two boy but strong, nonetheless.

"You know, alliances are becoming a thing now, with the Games getting closer and I thought…"

"Thought you might ally with me?" He says, finishing off her sentence and looking at her with a blank expression to his face. "Should I save you the trouble and say no?"

"You can say that for now, hell you just met me and here I am introducing the concept of allies for the death games." She says taking a seat beside him, her dress crumples as she sits down, her taking off her 'eye' headband letting her long, brown wavy hair down and she smiles. "I'm not one to give up easily though."

Her smile does nothing for Albin, and he has certainly seen better fake smiles working at his father's bar back in Twelve than what this girl is displaying in front of him. He sighs as he looks away from her again. "Why bother with me? There are other tributes out there that are more capable than me."

"I don't like being in the spotlight." She admits and Albin wonders why she's being too honest with him. "Too bright."

"So, you're saying my general appearance would hide you away from that spotlight?"

"N-No! That's not what I meant at all," She says looking away from him. "I don't want to get the attention of those brutes from Two or One."

He feels that, during the Tribute Parade he tells Tey to wave at the crowd so as to redirect all the attention to her. The girl does so with gusto, and he believes, genuinely, that it worked as he doesn't feel as watched as everyone else; still he feels that he's in someone's radar, other than the girl sitting beside him.

"I didn't even introduce myself," she says with the same smile on her face. "My name is Francesca, district Eight tribute, and you're Albin, right?"

"That's my name." He says, taking the coal covered har hat from the seat beside him and putting it down on the floor, and then he goes to fix his matted black hair.

"Well, Albin, I'll see you around." She says, seeing her district partner waving her over, also dressed in some form of surreal fashion, golden colours from his feet going up to a more formal black as it reaches his head, that at one point during the Tribute Parade was covered in flowers, obscuring his face completely.

She walks away from him, holding onto her headband as she joins her district partner and another person, he assumes is their escort. She smiles at the both of them before they disappear behind silver doors, retiring for the night.

"I wouldn't trust people like her."

Albin does an inward sigh, wishing to any deity that can hear him to be left alone just for tonight. However, his prayers are left unanswered as the boy from Nine, with his wheat covered outfit, golden like the fields he saw on the train ride over, sits beside him, a stern look on his face as if he's about to lecture the boy from Twelve.

"Rye Durum, my dad's a victor?" He says, half bitter in tone, but the other half almost bragging. "People like her, the girl from Eight, are always the first one to betray their 'friends'."

"Right." He says wanting to leave and cursing his escort for being out this late, wherever that man is, he owes Albin an explanation.

In truth, he can surmise that Francesca is looking for allies that she can use as a crutch, or maybe she genuinely just wants allies for the Games. He doesn't know yet, and he doesn't want some kid to make decisions for him either.

"What you need from an alliance is someone you can depend on; someone you can really work with." He continues, without any prompting whatsoever, not sensing Albin's desire for him to leave.

Despite Francesca's offer earlier, Albin thinks about the Hunger Games as a whole, how there can only be one winner after all. The irony of Rye's words is lost when it comes to the death games, where you're to fight twenty-three other tributes, all as desperate as you are. You can only depend on someone to a point before you find yourself a human pincushion.

"You need someone like me, someone that has experience and someone you can really depend on." He tells him and Albin just ignores the boy, sighing in relief when Louis comes into view, leaving the boy without another word.

"I see you've made a friend." Louis looks at him and at Rye from where they were sitting moments ago, before Albin takes off to stand beside the escort. "I do apologise for my lateness; I was finishing off one of two sponsor deals already!"

Rye doesn't follow him, backing away back to his district partner. Albin knows for a fact that he's heard the word of 'sponsors', scaring the golden boy. He doesn't know where he gets such confidence, but it seems that it can be just as easily knocked down.

"Now where is that district partner of yours? That scamp is always getting away from me."

She's still talking to the duo from Ten. He can see how much they've hit it off already, he can see how friendly the two girls are, the boy too is comfortable seeing both of them; like a big brother with his two sisters. Louis calls to her, and she looks at him and then at Albin, a smile on her face as she says goodbye to her newfound friends.

"Wow! There's so many people from so many districts!" She exclaims, standing beside Louis, holding onto his hand, to which Louis doesn't protest. "This even is for sure going to be so exciting!"

Louis just nods as he presses onto the button, the silver doors opening and him guiding the girl inside, Albin following through. He's trying to sum up the events of today, trying to get his bearings as he now begins to wind down for the day.

He surmises that he had gotten way too much attention today, too much for his liking.

* * *

**A/N - Well hello there! Been a while right? Lots of things have happened since the last update and boy is it a doozy.**

**First thing's first: I have a boyfriend now, and for the last five or so months we have been so preoccupied with each other, also with work and everything it's all gone a bit awry;**

**Second: I write on a small notepad first before typing, that's how I plan my stories normally so that obviously takes forever too. I can't make it up on the spot, it doesn't flow as well, at least I don't think so anyway.**

**Thirdly: I didn't describe all of the tribute's outfits, but rest assured everyone had one, from One to Twelve. I just couldn't fit it all in.**

**Lastly: I want to say thank you for your patience and I look forward to getting back on my writing! Thank you to all the authors that have submitted their characters to this story, and I hope I did them some sort of justice, getting back to writing is always a struggle for me.**

**So what do you think of the chapter? Some budding alliances, who do you want to see ally with who? Do you think Tony has what it takes to kill kids younger than him? Is Lily going to get into the One and Two alliance? Is Chevelle going to shout at their mentor? Is Albin going to ally with Francesca or Rye?**

**The next chapter is the first day of training, I know who will all be in it, so I at least have a plan in mind.**

**Till next time!**

**Cheers!**

**~Alec**


	14. Chapter 9: The Strong and Weak

_"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."  
_~Sun Tzu

* * *

_**Klayton Barker, 14, District Eleven**_

* * *

It's a new day, and the events of last night are fading fast as the focus shifts elsewhere for the Capitol eyes, if only for a few days. Still, Klayton doesn't know what prompted his district partner to be angry with him. He's trying to recollect all his memories from the moment he meets with her until now and nothing is coming up, not that he knows anyway.

Ashley Allspicer, the ever loving female tribute from district Eleven, his own partner, is angry at him and he doesn't know why. She has been very distant to him even before the parade had begun, he's tried speaking to her about it all, only to be met with snippy comments.

They had a small argument before they had to put their differences aside and wave at the disgusting Capitol, all in the hopes of getting some form of sponsor. It's something both their mentor and escort hold to some high regard.

None of that matters, he still doesn't know what is wrong with her and he would like to find out. They sit at the dining table, piles and piles of food in between the two of them. Breakfast has come to be something that Klayton enjoys the most, he has to find something that could bring joy to his situation.

The taste of pancakes as it melts in his mouth is one such feeling that he wishes he has had more often, but that's not the case back to where he's from. Eleven is tightly controlled, where the rich get richer and the poverty increases. There's a slight guilt to his mind whenever he takes a bite but is completely overruled by the godly feeling.

He fidgets in his seat, their training outfit is tight, but not completely uncomfortable. The colour of black is an odd choice, not having to find the colour to be displayed in the capitol a lot. He has noticed that every other colour is used and black is reserved for unwanted things, does that mean they're unwanted? Regardless, their district number, a white '11' is displayed on their shoulders.

He's swinging his legs on the orange seat, the lights dancing on the red table as he reaches for another one of those delicious pancakes. His training shoes, another black in colour, are neatly by the entrance of their accommodation, not wanting to use the shoes just yet.

He was quite surprised when he first entered their quarters, the extravagance was too much for him and Ash too. He ignores Kitty's shouts; immediately running up to the window to see the spectacular sights from the tall building.

The worries of three days of training seemed to melt at that point, as his eyes trained on every light as far as the eye could see, as if everyone that lives in the Capitol cared very little for their electricity bill; he smiled at the tiny dancing ants, him feeling mighty from up his tower.

Of course, the novelty of it all wears on very quickly, the days counting down to his possible doom, especially after seeing the President yesterday. He could feel his eyes and pierce through each of them, daring every tribute to try and defy him.

He suspects that no one would do that, he doesn't really know at this point in time, but still, the feeling of dread dances around his head, like the people he saw last night through the very same window he is staring at now.

He takes another bite of the sweet pancakes, to try and distract himself. The first day of training is mere minutes away and he will admit that he's nervous, very very nervous. He flashes another look at his district partner, dark brown, meeting amber eyes. She looks away fast, as if in a huff, and any thoughts, or hopes, that Klayton had of his district partner being just as nervous as he is disappears.

However, he does notice that she is calmer than she was yesterday. He watches her take a bite of the sweet red apple, shining still from the lights. The very same apple that his sister picks from the orchard of Eleven. He shakes that thought from his mind, thinking of home is a sign of weakness, that's what Bergamot said to him during the train rides.

"Hey, if I offended you somewhat last night then I'm sorry." He says dropping the fork beside him, thinking of home and everything else to come has made him lose his appetite entirely.

She ignores his apology, not a drop of words leaking from her mouth as she gets up, leaving the table and straight out of that door, no slam or anything. They're not due downstairs for another half hour, having only been awake an hour ago.

He sighs as he takes another bite out of his pancake, pushing it aside now completely, trying his best to savour the taste of one of his few last meals, he hopes it's not the case but he's very unsure of his situation now.

He shakes his head, he has to stop thinking in that way. He takes a look at the bedroom hallway, seeing Kitty stride out into the combined dining and living area. Her hair straightened, looking professional, she turns a couple of times, showing off to no one in particular her work suit.

"Nice isn't it?" She smiles and Klayton can only nod at her, a small smile on his face. "Where is young Ashley?"

"She went ahead without me." He says, a sad tone to his voice at the same time thinking that he should also go too.

"I don't know why that girl has been in a foul mood, you two looked absolutely wonderful last night." She complimented them both as she sat at the table at just the same time Klayton pushed away from it.

"Thank you." He says looking at Kitty and then making his way to the door, putting on the shoes and leaving.

He sees Ashley standing by the elevator of the greyscale hallway, the button had not been pushed yet, him thinking she's hesitating about it all. He approaches her, standing beside her, a concerned eye looking at the smaller girl.

"Can you please speak to me?" He asks looking at her, trying his best not to touch her, for some reason his instincts are telling him not to do that, despite him always doing that back at home.

"It's nothing, I'm sorry for being argumentative last night." She apologised. "Maybe it's just all the stress and the pressure of yesterday, and the fact that we are about to go to fight for our lives in a couple of days time..."

"I understand that." He replies as he presses the button on the elevator, the soft 'ding' of the button press echoing on the walls. "We're supposed to be a 'united front' right?"

She scoffs at those words, the ones used by their escort, but she soon smiles. The silver doors of the elevator open up to reveal an empty box. Ash pressed the button to take them to the lowest floor possible, past the stables and the Remake Centre.

The atmosphere doesn't seem as hostile between the two of them now. Klayton is thankful for the feeling, the silence that was once so deafening seems more comfortable now as they feel the gravity of the elevator, the metal box going all the way down at a steady speed.

They walk comfortably beside each other when the elevator doors open, through a grey hallway into the open doors of the Training Centre. More than half of tributes are present, but Klayton sees those intimidating tributes from One and Two quietly talking amongst themselves.

He follows Ashley as they stand beside the Ten tributes, both of them looking more nervous, the girl than the boy. That's when his eyes wander to the other tributes too, seeing that most of the tributes are between the nervous and scared emotion; Ashley beside him trying not to act as nervous but he can tell from earlier that she is.

They wait another ten or so minutes as the rest of the tributes pile into the gymnasium. The large area, specifically for training tributes to fight to the death, are kitted out with every station. Klayton notices the sharp objects on one side and other stalls opposite them on the other side of the room.

The middle house has some sort of obstacle course, with various platforms at differing levels and swinging spherical objects between each jump. It looks daunting as he looks up to see that the ceiling is covered in nets and various platforms, that's when he notices that each pillar holding the ceiling is covered in black ropes, like vines; for climbing he notes to himself.

As the last of the tributes walk in, the sound of heels clicking and clacking make their way to the group. The silence amplifies the sound as it grows closer and closer to his ears. The woman walks in, passing through the tributes and standing in front of them, he notices that some of the tributes are whispering to themselves, obviously recognising the woman.

"Good morning, tributes." She says, no smile to her face. "I am Theodora Vidia, your Head Gamemaker this year, welcome to training."

She writes on her clipboard as Klayton looks at her, she's definitely on the older side, older than both Dora and his stylist, but she looks dignified. The Capitol technology does not touch her entire body unlike his stylist. He remembers Kitty mentioning that the Head Gamemaker was male, but clearly it's someone new.

"Over the next three days you are to come here, practice skills or gain new ones, the choice is up to you. These next few days are obviously vital to your survival in the arena I have prepared for you." She says with a sense of pride to her voice. "So do your best, and a piece of advice to each and everyone of you, the weapons are only one part of training, survival skills can also mean life or death, you all should do best remembering this."

Klay can hear the girl from Two scoff but Theodora paid her no mind. He's already thinking of what he wants to do first, but he also doesn't want to be stuck with other people so as to not appear really incompetent in front of them.

"Just a few ground rules before you start: No kicking, scratching punching or anything that would cause harm to either you or your opponent; you have plenty of time to do that in the arena; failure to comply to these simple rules can be detrimental to either you or to someone else, so take this as your final warning."

She slams her pen on the clipboard, surprising those not paying attention into staring at her. She looks at each of them individually, before smiling. "Happy training, may you all try your best and I'll see you all in two and a half days."

With that she leaves, her high heels echoing once more as she traverses through the grey hallway back to the elevator, the moment she enters it the room falls deathly silent again, and a few minutes after the tributes disperse, some going to the survival stations and others the weaponry.

Klayton notices Ashley walk towards the bow and arrow section and out of curiosity he follows her. He stands at a distance as he watches her take a slender short bow and takes one of the arrows, preparing for it to be fired. He watches her take a breath in, drawing the string back with the arrow, she lets go as soon as she expels air from her mouth and Klayton watches the arrow fly through the air, it whistling before striking the dummy right in the heart.

"How? What?" He asks, astounded, as he walks closer to her, she only smirks at him.

"I'm not just a simpleton from Eleven." She says as she prepares another arrow. "Now, leave me for a bit and I'll talk to you later."

He nods his head walking away from her, strolling past all the weapon stations until he stops by the sword section. He notices that someone is already here, the boy from Four, about to begin a session with their sword.

The boy dives into it, slicing at the arms of two dummies, moving onto a third one as he stabs the metal blade straight into its stomach, he turns back and stabs the second one in the back, pulling the sword out quickly before slicing off the head of the first one; all whilst red cotton litter the shiny floor.

Intimidated slightly, he goes to him, his hand extended for the boy to shake it, smile on his face . "Klayton Barker, hello, you can call me Klay if you want."

"Merrick." He says abruptly, but shaking Klay's hand anyway. "You're that guy that was arguing with his district partner, right?"

"I wouldn't say argue, more her shouting at me for what reason, I don't know."

"I get you," he says. "My district partner is the same."

He smiles as he lifts a longer sword than what Merrick has, feeling the weight with his one hand and it takes both his hand to carry it comfortably without it pulling at his shoulders. He's never held a weapon before, he's held blades before when harvesting but never for the idea of killing someone.

"I'll cut to the chase," he says putting the sword back, formulating a plan in his head. "I see those One and Two tributes over there, and they seem threatening to both our survivability to the Games, and I would like to propose that we enter into an alliance-"

"I'll stop you right there." He says, raising his hand to Klay's face. "That team you just pointed out is going to be _my _team, I'm sorry."

Without another word, Merrick leaves dropping the weapon by the attendant at the station. Klay watches him run across to the bigger group. After seeing him shred through the dummies, he can feel the nerves come back.

It's true that not many people can stop him from talking but being rejected so fast without even him arguing his point of view has taken him aback. He shrugs his shoulder, lifting a smaller sword, and makes his way to one of the many dummies.

He lifts up the sword and with one big strike he only managed to hit the leg, maybe he needs more practice and perhaps a smaller sword; or maybe he's just really downtrodden at the fact that the boy from Four, who doesn't look that much older than him has rejected him.

"Hey." He looks behind him to see the girl from Eight looking at him. "He'll come back."

"How do you know?" He says dropping the sword by the dummy and she just smiles.

"I have a feeling, by the way my name is..."

"Francesca, right?"

"Impressive," she smiles some more. "Are you willing to have me into your alliance?"

Klayton smiles and nods his head, the girl comes closer and shakes the boy's hand. He'll believe her, for now, thinking that Merrick will come back. It's still early days yet, someone like him shouldn't discount Klayton Barker as being weak.

* * *

_**Shade Grimoire, 18, District Five**_

* * *

Never in a million years would he ever admit this, a secret he will take to his grave if he has to, that for a brief moment during the chariots, when he and Kenna were both waving at the adoring Capitol public, as if they're not about to go into the death games, that he could see him and her as being friends.

During the Tribute Parade is when it all got real, the President looked menacing and everything set in all at once, that they are going into the Hunger Games, with as much preparation they can fit in two and a half days.

Sure they may bear some animosity for each other, but at that moment, when they were getting off their chariots they both admitted that they are out of their depth here, that maybe they shouldn't be fighting as much and actually listen to their mentor, Hamish.

Like he said, though, he doesn't want Kenna to know that Shade Grimoire would admit that he would like to be friends with her. An acquaintance is more his thing, never friendly with anyone, not even Star, he cringes to himself at the mention of her name in his mind, they didn't really leave on good terms. He forgets about her again, tucking her face in the very corner of his mind, she was a fool for ever wanting friendship with him anyway.

He sits by the fire making section, leaflet by his side as he watches Kenna get to work. Their solution for solidarity is to stay together, train together as district partners and not allies. They'll never work as allies, and Kenna herself has made that very clear when they arrived in their accommodation.

Hamish's other suggestion is for the both of them to work an 'angle'; pretending to be someone they are not, in hopes to garner more attention and therefore more sponsors. Shade scoffs at the idea, but Kenna takes it all to heart, pretending to be some clueless girl, evident with her laughing and twirling her hair at the instructor.

She sits down beside him, the cutesy clueless act is gone now, her eyebrows and dark brown eyes furrowed in focus, Kenna obviously not good at acting like the 'dumb' person she's supposed to act like as she gathers all the correct ingredients for the fire.

"You're playing the dumb angle very well," he says rolling his eyes and Kenna shoots her a glare. "No one will ever believe you, even if you intentionally gather all the wrong supplies."

"Shut. Up." She puts back all the right ingredients and gathers the wrong ones again, she takes the flint and steel and sparks at the dry leaves, it catches fire immediately, she looks at Shade smugly. "You were saying?"

He only huffs at the miniscule fire, warming him up slightly as the embers dance and pulsate with each of his breaths. He takes the flint and steel from Kenna's offering hand, and then gathering the right ingredients to make a fire, not even sure why he's frustrated, he grinds the flint and steel together; the sparks dance around the items, and when he thinks it's going to light on fire it doesn't.

He can feel the smugness coming from Kenna, he doesn't see it but he _feels_ it. He scoffs then growls throwing the flint and steel away, standing up and storming away from the station, not before stepping on Kenna's growing fire beforehand. Kenna chases after him, her thanking the instructor before grabbing Shade's arm.

"You just can't give up too easily!" She speaks a bit louder than both of them would like, attracting the attention of a few of the tributes around them.

He just ignores her cries, taking his arm back, rather too harshly than what he wants, going to one of the four corners of the gymnasium. His back feels the cool grey walls as he slides down, sitting alone, like he always does, nearby the edible plants section.

His district partner doesn't follow him, probably a good idea on her part, instead opting to go towards the weapon side of the gymnasium. He doesn't want another screaming match, Panem knows how that will turn out in front of the other twenty-two tributes out there, and the later repercussions of their mentor lecturing them too.

He begins to watch the world go by, like he always does back in the Grimoire home, before everything went crazy and his mother ended up dead. He's not been the same since, he notices it too. More depressed, more argumentative, more cynical; all perfect for the Hunger Games.

He's become so irritable as of late, the Hunger Games and being Reaped probably the catalyst for it all. Is it because he is jealous of Kenna? If he was then what was he jealous of? Who else would he be jealous of? The tributes from One and Two because of how good they are with weapons? Of the relationship the pair from Three have as they laugh together making traps?

He buries his head in his hands, resting them on his knees as he thinks it over and over again. He doesn't come to any conclusion, nothing springs to mind, many of his thoughts are jumbled and messy that it's all too simple to just act cynical one hundred percent of the time.

What he does come to a conclusion to, after watching every tribute make an effort out there, is that he needs to get his shit together. He wants to do well in these Games, even though it's going to be pointless seeing all those brutes from One shred their dummies to pieces, the Two pair just clapping.

He stands up regardless, brushing the dust on his shorts and begins to make his move, moving ashen hair away from his face revealing newly focused blue eyes as he sits by the edible plants station, ignoring the instructor as the same blue eyes spy on the other tributes; categorising them all into two groups: threats and not threats.

His eyes land on the Three pairing again, laughing together, both extremely close to each other, he classes them as not threats, picturing the girl dying early on, the boy following after, or vice versa. Then his eyes flicker over to the weaponry again, the Ones and Twos? Threats.

His district partner, Kenna? Threat. Her nature of being inherently manipulative and her angle of acting dumb and weak makes her especially dangerous. His expectations from her exceeding as practices with a dagger, not very well but still better than he can ever do.

Shade then cast an eye at the Seven pair, and he can't make heads or tails of the both of them. The boy is very young looking, and he would hazard a guess that he's only twelve. However, he looks less happy than the girl whenever she turns around. Well, as happy as you can be in their current situation.

His mind is now formulating a plan for the next couple of days, he decides that he'll watch his opponents carefully. He may or may not share information with Kenna, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it. He crushes the leaflet given to him earlier by the instructor, and decides to rejoin his partner.

She stands with the Eleven girl, talking quietly amongst themselves. A pang hits his chest at her partner speaking to someone else, but he pushes it aside as he nears the station they are at: knives and daggers. They're not actually doing much and soon notices why as the girl from Two slices her way across multiple dummies, everyone staring at her wondering if that would be them in a few days time.

"You've decided to join me again?" Kenna says as Shade makes his way beside her, with a smile and he can see the Eleven girl recoil slightly away from him. "This is Ashley, she and I both agreed that the Two girl were definitely trained."

"As a Peacekeeper," Ashley adds. "Ash is fine."

He raises an eyebrow, if they can see it through his shaggy hair for it is obscuring it. He does begin to wonder if other districts are being groomed into the Hunger Games, via training. He can see that through the Two and One tributes, it's not unheard of, but all of it is heresy in Five.

Now that he's watching someone literally slash everything in sight, red cotton spilling out from countless training dummies, he believes it. He swallows hard, a slight nervous feeling creeping up his back again. It sends signals to his brain to avoid this girl at any cost, not wanting to draw her attention he looks at the array of knives and daggers on the rack.

"This would go well with your height." Ash tells Kenna handing her a dagger, light reflecting from the silver underneath the harsh light. "Try it, this would be better than the one you were using earlier."

Kenna takes the dagger, stepping forward, the dagger firm in her hand, and Shade can see her grip tighten as she approaches one of the training dummies. She strikes, the dagger makes a whistling noise that seems to pierce Shade's brain, the dagger wedging itself on the neck of the dummy.

Ash watches intently beside him and he couldn't imagine someone like Kenna doing that to a tribute, sure manipulating and making someone else do it he can vision, but to actually kill another tribute? Either him or Ash? He doesn't see that at all, at least not intentionally.

He's struggling to cope with everything, the fact that he's going to have to go through that in a few days time, the cotton being replaced by red ooze, it can shiver anyone to the core. He swallows hard, however, and does the same thing as Kenna just did, taking a smaller knife and going to one of his targets; the Two girl has now vanished from the devastation she has left.

He reaches a newly instated mannequin, not exactly life like, made of cotton sacks, from Eight he assumes, and he shakes his head from thinking and just plunges fast, the knife, into the stomach of the dummy, he couldn't believe how easy it is, the thought shocks him to the core as he takes a step back dropping the knife with a clang on the floor; hands trembling.

"Hey, hey, Shade are you okay?" Kenna is immediately by his side.

"Yeah, yeah." He nods his head, the hand has stopped trembling, he picks up the knife and hands it to Kenna. "I'm okay, I'll just go practice something else."

Kenna doesn't press or argue back, taking the knife back as Shade flees the station, Ash doesn't say anything, not even acknowledging him as he walks past her; half thankful and half offended about it all. Although she probably doesn't know enough about him, which is fair, no one really does.

He walks past the gauntlet in the middle of the gymnasium. The One and Two tributes are laughing it up like school kids, forgetting in a few days time they're going to be in the Hunger Games, killing each other, or worse; him.

He passes the Nine boy talking with Ash's district partner, walking fast and not paying anyone any attention. He doesn't stare back at the eyes, he doesn't acknowledge anyone. Just the way he likes it. He winds up at the first-aid station with the Nine girl.

"Hi." She says meekly tying a bandage around the arm of the trainer for that station.

"That's good! A very well done, and on the second try too!" He says to her and the girl just smiles, tucking loose auburn hair behind her ear, it's up in a pony tail but strands manage to find themselves back to her pale face.

Although he's stared at her long enough, he doesn't respond to her greeting, she just smiles sadly at the trainer now. He knows that she knows first-aid is not going to get you far in the arena, but Shade's plan is to try everything; he feels that survival stations for the first day, trying to stay away from the weapons for now, he'll go back tomorrow, after he's psyched himself up.

He takes a booklet, the front page emphasising the importance of first-aid, to which he scoffs at, once you're injured in the arena, your chances of survival decreases substantially. He can stop the bleeding done by a weapon, but his mortality goes down one or two steps. He thinks that once a massive gash appears from anywhere in your body, the Capitol is not going to bat an eye at you, you're as good as gone from their point of view.

He wants to try his best, he really does, but every bone in his body is pointing his arrow to the negative side, the cynical side that is going to kill him. He knows that's going to be the end of him, he just can't help it.

* * *

_**Zhi Penn Lu, 16, District Three**_

* * *

He's seeing Mari under a different light ever since they waved at the Capitol crowds, dressed in what seems to be a bride and groom. He can't get her out of his mind, the way she looked underneath the veil; gorgeous and beautiful isn't enough to describe her.

Their outfit, dressed as bride and groom, wowed the Capitol, winning them second best at some panel show; their escort was talking about it this morning. The winner came down to the Ten pair. Zhi couldn't care less, all he cared about is the feeling his heart made that night, how it would flutter seeing her in that dress.

She looked graceful, beyond belief, until she cried in his arms that night, after they settled underneath the high ceilings that was Zhi's room. Her tears like rivers soaking through the cotton shirt he wore. Her once positive attitude from since she was young reduced to a wreck.

Today she's different, vowing to herself to be more positive and it shows. She joking with him, and the happiness reflecting from her onto Zhi. He follows her lead for the day, not wanting to leave her alone, she doesn't seem to mind. Rolex's words in his head hounding him to practice weapons, but he buries him underneath countless images of Mari.

"Where should we go next, Zhi?" She asks him, a smile on her face.

"Wherever you want." He smiles back.

The two of them have been making great progress across the various survival stations in the gymnasium. Mari taking it to heart what Theodora Vidia had told them at the start of their training. They complete rope tying, edible plants and fire making already this morning. He can see the hesitation from Mari's brown eyes every time she looks over to the weapons; Rolex's advice also in her head.

"What about shelter making?" She tilts her head towards the said station.

"Sure." He smiles again following her lead, trying to make her feel at ease.

They stroll towards the station, Zhi eyeing the other tributes as they do so, the Nine and Eleven boys are practising with swords, again. He noted that they were doing that before their midday break. He notices that Mari is eating less and less there too, he doesn't say anything but if it continues he might gently mention it.

The Five boy has been doing what he had been doing since before the lunch break catching Zhi's attention. He surmises that he is very curious, staying mostly by himself, yet he would go speak with his district partner, who is also acting bizarrely; sometimes fumbling and other times really focused as she trains with the Eleven girl.

"Zhi? Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, just lost in thought." He smiles crouching beside her. "Have you read the pamphlet?"

"Yeah, another easy one." She states, fixing her ponytail, the locks of brown hair being pushed away from her face as she concentrates.

She begins to gather the materials, the trainer eyeing the both of them, quietly assessing their skills at shelter making. Zhi is with her, yet his mind begins to wander again, thinking of the rest of the tributes, trying to be aware of his surroundings.

He saw how threatening some of them are earlier. He makes a mental note that those are the tributes he and Mari should avoid at all cost, during training and especially during the arena. He thinks of the Two boy, who had cleaved a dummy clean in half with one great swing of his sword. He closed his eyes then, trying not to think that the dummy could have been Mari.

He looks back to her, a softer smile itching at his face, her face in a focus as she begins to prop up sticks and branches. She covers both sides with grass, leaves, whatever else. She looks to him and smiles, him giving her gentle encouragement. He likes the way she smiles strongly, even at the face of death.

He remembers fondly, the time before they even boarded the train, before he saw Mari as anything other than a friend, how Mari's own mother walks into his private room in the Justice Building, pleading, begging him to protect her daughter, her hands clinging onto his clothes, her tears real and raw.

His sister follows after her, after the woman that begged to protect her daughter at all cost. Pixie looked like she had been crying, they hugged momentarily, his mind not made up yet, but it soon was when his sister revealed a big secret Mari has held for years.

That the person he is now staring at, Mari Caresse Katou, is harbouring a crush on Zhi, his mind making his mind up that he should protect her, but it wasn't until the last few minutes before he was due to board the train that his mother had walked in, steel faced as her hands grabbed at either side of him, telling him to come home...whatever it takes.

At that time, his mind was scrambled. The choice between Mari and his family legacy hung in the air, like a crossroad, waiting for him to make a decision. His emotions conflicted making him so pensive as of late, so many things in his head; practise weapons, stay with Mari; come home. It's all too much, Rolex advising him to leave behind his feelings, but he knows deep down that he just cannot do that.

He catches her eyes on him again, her face pure and smiling as she finishes the shelter. He smiles back, moving closer to her. He looks at her in a different light now, his heart making him view her in a way that he had never noticed before; the way she looks even with their training uniform; so pretty.

Zhi helps her with the finishing touches, another twenty or so minutes, using everything they had learned from the other stations this morning to construct a sturdy shelter. They sit inside, comfortable feeling, the rest of the tributes in view for the both of them; the trainer impressed.

"You're so clever, Mari." He says, cheeks tinting slightly red.

"You're just saying that." She smiles, doing the same, looking away from him. "I don't think my smarts are going to help us in the arena."

"It will." He says, hands moving to hers. "I promise you that I'll protect you; and your smarts are going to help us, okay?"

"Yeah..." She nods , looking away from him again.

He can feel himself get flustered again, at the thought of holding onto Mari's hand. The small shelter, as comfortable as it is, gets too hot for him. He starts to cough, choking on the saliva he is forced to swallow, Zhi exiting the makeshift shelter.

"Is something wrong?" Mari asks, concern and worry on her face.

"N-nothing, hey, do you mind if I go to the weapons? I think we need something like that to help our chances? I can't get Rolex out of my head." He says meekly, rubbing the back of his neck, dark eyes avoiding her very own brown ones.

"Sure, I'll come with." She smiles.

"No!" He says abruptly, the shout surprising both him and Mari. "I mean, stay here and learn more survival skills."

If Mari looked hurt, he didn't see it on her face as the girl just nods slowly. No frown on her face, just that smile that continues to make the boy's heart flutter. He turns around, practically running away from her, colliding with the One boy at the spears section.

"Woah! Are you okay?" He smiles at him, pearly white showing off; Zhi notes that he looks different from his chariot outfit. "What's the rush?"

"I'm fine, and there's no rush." He says, cheeks still flushing red from Mari.

"Where's that little district partner of yours?" He asks looking around him, hand on his forehead trying to look out for Mari.

"What does it have to do with you?" He says aggressively, crossing his arms, trying to stand up straight.

"Hey now! I'm just asking, because you two have been inseparable since the chariots," he says, hands going up in surrender. "You good? You look flustered too."

He wants to leave, he really wants to just go but he doesn't want to face Mari just now; especially after saying that he'll train with weapons alone. He doesn't want to be weak in the eyes of his district partner either; so he's here and determined to ignore the boy, his only problem is that he cannot get rid of him.

"Carnelian, by the way." He extends his hand for Zhi to shake, but he just looks at it.

"Zhi." He says but flinches away when Carnelian takes his hand and shakes it anyway.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Zhi! I like you already!"

"Shouldn't you be with _them?_" He obviously means Carnelian's district partner and the Two tributes, as well as that Four girl too.

"We're all doing our own thing just now," he smiles again, and Zhi is resisting his eye roll. "You going for a spear? Here I'll show you how to use one."

Without being able to interject, Carnelian drags Zhi to the nearest training dummy. He hands Zhi one of the spears, metallic in colour. He can feel the weight of it, heavy in feeling. He watches Carnelian as he tells Zhi to back away slightly.

"Now the spear is a good choice for a weapon, not my choice personally, but it's very good and quite versatile."

He's here now, and since he can't get away from the One boy Zhi just stands there as Carnelian gives an impromptu lesson on spear management. Carnelian stands from a distance, holding onto a spear, the muscle in his arms tensing, he growls before hitting the dummy with the spear, whacking it from one side to the other in quick succession, before going in with a stab to the stomach.

"See? Easy, right?" He says looking at Zhi who is trying to keep his poker face on. "You can also do this, I'm not so good at doing this, but my cousin is."

Zhi watches Carnelian take the spear, pulling back slightly, drawing the arm holding the spear back and pointing with his other. He then grunts as he lunges the spear into the air, Zhi keeps a close track of the spear as it cuts through the air, astonishment painting his face when the metallic spear striking a dummy all the way at the back of the gymnasium, the distance a couple of metres away.

Carnelian bows when he turns around to face Zhi, then goes to gesture towards the other dummies, so as to give Zhi a try. He ignores the boy's showmanship, taking the spear from the rack. He tries out the spear, trying to remember what Carnelian was doing a few minutes ago.

He worries that after seeing him do all that, with just a spear, that he would not be able to keep Mari safe. Carnelian looks friendly on the outside, but deep down Zhi knows that he's scarier than his appearance seems to be.

Now he must act strong, him standing up straight, holding the spear with both hands. He's trying to hide his glaring weaknesses, he steps forward. Looking at the training dummy, and then back at Carnelian; who just shrugs as a response, clearly finished entertaining Zhi as he takes his leave.

"If you want more advice, you should seek me out." He winks before walking back to his district partner. "If I were you, you should take any help you can get, I see certain tributes look at you and your district partner."

Zhi just looks away from him, white grip on the steel. He begins to hit the dummy, trying to get used to the feeling. His mind wondering why the One boy has taken an interest in him all of a sudden, where he could have just scared him away at first sight.

* * *

_**Velvet Eclatant, 18, District One**_

* * *

She smiles to herself when most of the tributes find out that her natural hair colour is not the luminous blonde her own district has come to be known; well it was just mostly Diana and Lily, the boys didn't care too much for appearances.

She sits at the gauntlet benches with everyone else. Lily is the only person daring enough to approach her and ask to join the alliances between the One and Two tributes. She was sceptical at first, until Lily proved her worth, shredding several dummies at the first chance she got.

Therefore she becomes the only recruitment to their team. She eyes other tributes to join their cause, but some of them eye her own alliances, some in fear and others in contempt. It may turn out that only Lily joins the four-man team.

The first day of training is ending, and lots of things have happened already. The gears moving, setting plans in motions, and she knows it's not just hers but all the other tributes out there. She crosses her arms, thinking about her team; Carnelian, Diana, Antonio and Lily.

There's just one other tribute that had the same guts as Lily, and that's her district partner. Pestering not only her but Carnelian and Antonio earlier. He doesn't stop himself from trying to talk to her at any possible moment, even to go as following them about.

Diana was sceptical about the Four boy, Merrick, and Velvet too. It didn't take that long for her to convince the Two girl that he was not fit for their team, so collectively they have decided to not let the stuck up, overconfident boy from Four join their alliance.

Lily does not care for her district partner, she particularly hates how cocky Merrick has become even after the Tribute Parade. Not like Diana and her needed the go ahead from Lily, but she is quite happy that she thinks the same way, that's what she likes from her allies; easy minded and easily led.

It's better to do it now, nip it in the bud, confront Merrick and let him know that he is not welcome in the alliance. With only an hour left of training, they are getting closer and closer to the arena. They need to start formulating team strategies, and unfortunately for Merrick, he's not included in it.

One factor that irks Velvet from Merrick is his age, and it's no secret between the One, Two and Four tributes that they all train for the Hunger Games now, it's been a tradition for most of them since the Fifteenth Hunger Games, therefore at only fifteen he is too young and not as skilled as her or Diana, or anyone in their group as a matter of fact.

It's better to cut off the weak now instead of finding out about it later in the arena. She looks at Diana, who nods at her and they both stand. Lily, Antonio and Carnelian stay quiet, chatting amongst themselves. The Two girl take the lead, Velvet following her past different stations until they reach the sword station, where Merrick is still perfecting his technique.

Velvet and Diana walk quietly, both just tolerating the atmosphere. She's quite surprised that Diana had agreed for Velvet to become the leader of the group, she looks like the type that wouldn't let the leadership role go so easily, she suspects that Antonio has a hand in her doing that.

They stride up to Merrick who stops and looks at them both, an eyebrow raised at both of them. He takes the sword that he had wedged into the dummy's neck and turns his body completely so as to face them both. Him holding the sword as if to threaten the both of them, which doesn't work because she's taller than him, if only slightly.

"Merrick." Diana says, curt as she stands beside him, folding her arms, her ginger-red hair fiery looking, she looks like Velvet's bodyguard, despite being a bit shorter than both of them.

"Merrick, the group has decided that you will not be joining us in the arena." Velvet says, short and sweet, and she's about to turn around when Merrick speaks up, the boy's green eyes contorting into either annoyance or anger.

"The group?" He says, genuine confusion now forming on his face. "When was this decided?"

"Just a few hours ago." Diana says coming forward slightly, looking fierce and threatening.

"We feel that you will not have what it takes to catch up to us." Velvet says, tucking a loose strand of her reddish brown hair behind her ear. "And trust us when I say, you don't have what it takes."

"What are the criteria then? Hmm?" Merrick says, anger in his tone rising, sword in his hand dropping as he throws it. "Did _she _tell you? That I'm not good enough?"

She meaning his district partner, Velvet admits Lily does have some part in it, but not wholly. She knew from the first greeting with Merrick that he is not suitable. Her calculating mind not being able to find much use for him in the arena, summing up that he will become more of a hindrance than help.

Nevertheless, the boy in front of them is getting hostile, his face going red with anger, and Diana had to stand between the two of them, arms on either side to create space. She looks just as annoyed as Velvet does.

"Now, now, let's settle this in the arena, hmm?" She looks at Merrick, an eyebrow raised, taunting the boy from Four. "We've made the decision, and it was unanimous, we as a group will be moving forward...without you in it."

His face turns sour, contorting into the same anger from before. He slams his feet on the matted floor, like a child about to throw a tantrum before leaving the station, not before punching several dummies on the way, the boy releasing all his angry energy on those poor unsuspecting training figures.

She looks at Diana, who just shrugs her shoulders. She returns to their group, Velvet following suit. The rest of them sit silently, having witnessed the entire outburst of the Four boy. That's when Velvet notices that they are the only ones left in the big training hall.

"That went well." Carnelian says, breaking the tension as always. "I'm sorry if that causes you problems though, Lily."

"It was inevitable." She says with a shrug. "He's harmless for the most part, just some kid living up the Capitol lifestyle."

They sit amongst themselves again, silent as the atmosphere changes once more. None of them are entirely comfortable with each other, yet they stick together. Velvet may not trust them in the meantime, but she would do anything to protect her group, is it because of the leader title? She doesn't know.

Diana sighs, she gets up from her seat beside Antonio, leaving without saying goodbye to anyone. Velvet watches as the tall and muscular Antonio follows her, Lily waves goodbye to the both of them as she comes after the pair.

"Well I hope the first day is as eventful for you as it has been for me." Carnelian states with a smile, and Velvet just rolls her eyes. "Speaking of eventful, have I proved myself to you yet?"

She sighs, to be truthful? Yes. They had agreed during the chariots that they should sow dissent amongst the tributes, Carnelian has done that with the Three boy, unnerving him, making the boy doubt himself, and the way Carnelian shows off with his spear skills have also impressed her.

"You did good."

"And so did you." Carnelian says, the happy smile on his face never leaving. "Lily and Merrick are going to have an argument when she gets back up to their living quarters, and that's one or two tributes out of the way."

"Now let's continue to target the outliers," she says looking Carnelian directly in the eyes as she thinks of more tributes. "The boy from Five and the boy from Twelve."

She noticed during most of the day that other tributes too have encountered their own problems. The Eleven boy couldn't get to grips with the sword he was using; and the Eight and Nine girls wandered aimlessly throughout the whole day, save for when the Eight girl chatting with the boy from Eleven.

These are all prime targets for their strategy. However, she will admit that manipulation is not her strong suit, in fact she hates doing it. It was Flash Gladstone's idea, her mentor, he stating that this is one of the most important weapons in the Games. Not swords, spears, knives, but your tongue and personality.

Charming others is one thing but flat out lying to one person to gain personal advantage? It's not so chivalrous, and yet she's going to do it, so she can win; she's going to use Carnelian's charisma to manipulate the tributes.

Carnelian has been popular even during their academy days. Articulate when speaking, attractive when he needs to be and charismatic without so much effort. She hates him so much for those are the things she's not so good at.

That's not what she wants to do. Her job is to work hard to watch the other tributes carefully. See how they react to Carnelian or the others in their group. She'll note who fights back and who cowers, formulating which one of these outlier tributes are potential threats.

Her allies are not excused in these mental notes she's making. Carnelian's weakness is that he is too much of a pushover, agreeing with everything she tells him to, either because he has no drive for the Hunger Games or he thinks he'll last longer listening to her. She doesn't mind that at all, he was cocky when they were back in Beacon.

"Shall we go back?" He asks, looking around to see if there are still tributes left. "Let's talk more strategy at the dinner table tonight."

"Sure." She says mirroring his smile. "We have much to discuss with everyone, Flash and Jasper."

They exit the training hall and they head straight for the elevator; both with heads held high; both satisfied with today's training. She reckons, since there's only two days left of training, that it can only get better than here. She just has to endure one gruelling interview with the Capitol sleaze bag; Phineus Keenzest, before blood can be spilled.

"You didn't answer my question earlier." Carnelian says and Velvet looks at him. "Was your day as eventful as mine was?"

"Yes." She says as the door opens to their living quarters. "It has been very eventful."

She walks inside first, the avox present welcomes them in with a bow. Carnelian waves at her but Velvet heads straight for her room, her wanting a shower before she interacts with everyone else. She loves the feeling of a shower, washing away today's hard work, making her relax so that they can settle down for the day.

The shower turns on, her reminiscing of the first shower she had as a tribute, back inside the train, so unsure of herself, so eager to prove herself. Now she's sure she can win these Games. Her allies are strong, she will admit, but they're not as smart as she is.

She notices that Antonio, the boy from Two, big and strong, is unsure of what he wants to do in these Games. She notices the bruises on his arm, how he relaxes whenever he's on his own. He's not the type to kill unless it's a last resort, she can be proven wrong but only time will tell.

His district partner, Diana, might be a problem. Her overconfidence can get the better of her, but the girl is good at anything you throw at her. She remembers, during their midday break, that Diana spoke of her training as a Peacekeeper.

Her interest in her increases by the second as she thinks that she's going to be more of a rival than Lily will, who she deems as just another Carnelian, a pushover that might rise up to the challenge, when push comes to shove.

What about what they think of her? Probably strange because she opted to train at the survival stations. Gathering new skills for the arena, she is confident that her weaponry skills are sufficient in fighting off any tribute that comes her way. She's not so confident in surviving on her own though, hence the training at these stations.

Beacon is good, but they don't teach much about survival in the Hunger Games. It's more how you manipulate and kill your opponents. Nothing ever for the mind for One is not that type of district. She'll train with weapons again, but she wants to do it at her own pace.

She already brushed up on her throwing knife skills at the start of training, not a single knife she has thrown missed her intended target. Her sword skills are subpar, but she's better than most. She doesn't need to prove her worth, she'll come out on top and become victorious.

Velvet Eclatant will take home the title and give her family name a place in the Boulevard of the Great Houses. This is everything she ever wanted, this is her dream and it's a long time coming. Other tributes can think her weak, she doesn't care, let them think that. They'll be in for a shock when a knife comes flying towards their head.

* * *

**A/N - Hello! I know right? Another update so soon after the other one? I was just inspired is all.**

**First day of training is here! Alliances are forming slowly, but surely. We have our Proto-Careers. In my universe Careers don't exist until well into the 4th Decade of the Games, where the formula for combining One, Two and Four is actually a good idea.**

**So what do you think of the tributes? Klayton and Francesca becomes fast allies, huh? Shade suffers from another crisis; Zhi is falling in love and falling apart at the same time; and what is Velvet planning?**

**I suspect there's at least four more tribute chapters, and maybe two more Capitol chapters, until the Bloodbath. (To which I don't know who to kill off yet.)**

**Stay tuned!**

**Cheers!  
~Alec**


	15. Chapter 10: Inferior

_"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  
_~Eleanor Roosevelt

* * *

_**Rye Durum, 16, District Nine**_

* * *

It seems like the world is going back to normalcy. Rye Durum thinks this as he sits at the breakfast table, food piled high and abundant; a waste in his eyes considering what he sees from time to time back in his own district.

Breakfast time used to be something he enjoys, conversing with Salvia and his grandmother, planning their days ahead, helping with chores, when he's not up to mischief in the local market. He truly did like the concept of a morning meal, but now it's different.

Now his happy plans of mischief changes to planning what weapon to use in the Hunger Games, his conversations go from shopping for vegetables to finding alliances. The ritual of waking up from his soft cloud bed destroyed by the Hunger Games.

It doesn't help that his father is never present too, well he's never at home either. That doesn't really bother him, but he could tell that it bothers Salvia, his friend and Avena's mentor. The older woman crosses her arms as she sighs into the bowl of porridge in front of her.

Curly light brown hair tied up in a bun, no strands free to bother her. A worry on her face much like the same worry on his district partner's face. He looks to her, the girl quietly nibbles on her pancakes, trying not to think about things but that doesn't seem to be helping.

She brushes away auburn hair, normally neat from what she tells him during their downtimes, a little bit messy than what she normally has. Maybe she's sad because he saw her all alone yesterday, or at least most of yesterday.

He joins her during the lunch break, talking about how she would be okay and that she would find someone soon. He takes another spoonful of cereal to his mouth, crunching on the flakes as he swallows slowly.

A quiet affair in the Nine quarters. Their escort flicks through her Capitol tablet, reading tabloids and rumours about what the next arena is going to be like, not that he pays her any attention. Salvia continues to eat her porridge as she smiles at Rye, who blushes slightly.

"Anything exciting planned for today?" She asks the table, but looking at Rye, a common phrase she says back at home in the Victor's Village.

"I'm going to try practicing with a sword again, try to up my skills." He takes another spoonful of cereal before speaking once more. "I'm going to practice with Klayton for a bit."

"The boy from Eleven, right?" Salvia asks putting the spoon she held in her hand down, focusing his attention at Rye now. "You found a potential ally already?

"Yeah, I think so." He says, slightly unsure.

"Work hard, and remember to keep one eye open." He says to him and then she turns to the tribute under her care, Avena looking down immediately. "What about you, Avena? Will you try and look for alliances?"

She only nods her head, brushing away more auburn hair as Rye knows that she does not want to cry anymore further than she has been when they were travelling to the Capitol. She admitted after training last night that she wanted to be in an alliance with someone, and Rye feels guilty for not asking her to be in an alliance.

"You'll get one!" Rye pipes up, encouraging her, Avena looks at her and she blushes and smiles at him.

The promise of alliances together has changed, Avena was very reluctant to socialise the last few days; during the chariots and the first day of training. Still it didn't offend her when Rye tells her that he found an alliance for himself.

He looks at the time, and he gets up. Avena following what he's doing. They say their goodbyes and make their way out of the lavish kitchen section of their apartment. They're not late but Rye wants to get there early to get in early, for practicing.

They walk quietly to the elevator once they make it outside the apartment. The greyscale of the entire building present and dull, the lights lit brightly but is absorbed by the grey just as quickly as it comes out.

They flash smiles between each other as the elevator door opens, Avena enters first with Rye following behind her. He notices that she's working on her hair now, putting it quickly in pleats. That's all he focuses on, avoiding eye contact from sad innocent green eyes.

He presses the button, feeling the gravity as it pulls them down to below underground. The quiet hum of the metallic box is all he can hear, the guilt of leaving her behind when they arrive creeping up in the corners of his mind.

"You don't have to worry about me." She tells him, and he looks are her, a smile on her face as she continues to pleat her hair effortlessly. "I'll be fine, honest."

He sighs in relief inside his mind, that curbs his guilt even if for a little bit. He cares about her, he really does. He just can't be there to protect her in the arena when he himself wants to go home, back to his normalcy.

He erases the thought in his mind, the one where he knows that Avena isn't going to last long. The same nightmare plays in his head, one where Avena is killed by either the girl from One or Two. He cares about her too much, but is that not enough?

"I wish you nothing but the best." He says to her when the elevator stops moving, she looks at him with a brilliant smile on her face.

The door opens, and she grabs him for a hug. A shock to him but he melts into it, hugging her tightly, his eyes and heart feel a pang as she pulls away. She leaves first, newly pleated auburn hair is all he can see from the back.

He follows a minute later, thinking about her as he makes a bee-line towards the boy from Eleven, who is standing by the sword station already. He is examining the different varieties of swords, from long to short.

"Morning…what's wrong?" Klayton says, a slight concern on his face.

"Nothing." He looks away, hazel eyes trying to look for Avena but failing to find her, he turns back to Klayton. "Good morning…you ready for weapon's training?"

"Yes, I am, but I'm waiting for one more person." He says and Rye looks at him with confusion on his face.

He doesn't remember any other potential allies that Klayton mentioned from yesterday. Maybe he did it behind his back, not that it bothers him, or it does a little but he's trying to be a better person; better than his father.

Then Francesca Appiani comes in and all Rye can do is turn away from her, the feeling of distaste replaces the breakfast from his mouth as Klayton and Francesca talk to themselves quietly. Rye immediately remembering telling that boy from Twelve how he thinks about her.

He distrusts her from the get go, and there isn't anything that could change his mind, as charismatic and convincing Klayton is becoming the more he gets to know him. He turns around and puts on the same similar fake smile that Francesca has on; he could tell that it's fake from the start, he can see through that smile.

Salvia's advice of keeping one eye open coming back to the foreground of his thoughts and for the first time this Hunger Games he is going to have to exercise their wise words. His skull echoes of bad words he can say to her, but he continues to feign friendliness.

"Morning, Rye Durum, right? The victor' son?" She tilts her head, slight excitable tone to her voice. "It's nice to meet you! My name is- "

"Francesca Appiani, from Eight." He finishes for her, and she frowns slightly before nodding her head and smiling again, although he tries his best to sound friendly, it didn't seem to come out that way. "I've seen you around."

She stays quiet for a few minutes, thinking of what to say next. Klayton who has been standing in between them finally takes over the situation again, placing him directly in between the two. A small curt, polite smile on his face.

"Okay. Plan today is to practice weapons until lunch break then survival skills later, understand?" He says in a neutral tone and both Rye and Francesca nod their head.

"You got it, boss."

Francesca says, she tucks strands of brown hair behind her left ear, that silly smile still on her face. She looks between Klayton and himself, lingering on his own eyes a little bit longer as if she's trying to taunt him, trying to will him to fight over Klayton's friendship.

"Well _we _were going to practice with the swords here, care to join us, Eight?" He says specifically not mentioning her name.

"Well, _Nine._" She says backs. "I was going to practice throwing knives, so I guess I'll see you at tent making after lunch."

She slips away from the duo with another curt smile, travelling a short distance to the knife throwing section. She leaves two boys as Klayton rolls his eyes and goes back to picking the best sword for him. Rye just stands there and glares at the back of her head before turning around himself.

He held his tongue there; he had wanted to say something to Francesca but she's gone, mingling with the other tributes at the knife throwing station. He grumbles to himself browsing the swords, Klayton already practicing with a shorter sword.

"There's something about her that I just can't seem to put my finger on." He approaches Klayton with those words on his lips.

"She's smart, and I saw her skills at survival, if you want to be allies then you'll have to learn to get used to it. It's not fair to judge her when she's not done anything to you…yet."

_Yet._

It lingers in his mind, although Klayton's reasoning is true and Rye out of all people knows that quite well, but for some reason he feels more comfortable around his Eleven ally than to the Eight girl; in fact, everyone else for that matter, even Avena.

There's an aura around Klayton, that's just so different and Rye senses that like his father senses alcohol, a bad analogy but it's irresistible at times. There's a likeable demeanour that has potential to drown out his dislike of Francesca.

When they go near another set of training dummies, they are interrupted by the boy from Four, Merrick, as he rushes in with a sword slicing at anything he could see. They stand there and watch as the boy slashes everything with such tenacity and rage, he angrily curses too as he brings down a sword on a collapsed dummy.

He locks eyes with the both of them and jogs towards them with such quickness that it surprises even Rye, who thinks is also quite good with his agility. He's panting, although not from the run but from the rage induced shred-fest he just had.

"I'm in." He says to Klayton.

"Excuse me? What do you mean?" Klayton asks him, a dark brow raised at the boy.

"Whatever your alliance is, I'm in, I want to join."

"What changed your mind?" Klayton asks, and Rye is curious too, he had heard from Klayton yesterday that he had rejected his original proposal.

"That stupid bitch, Velvet, said I'm not good enough to be in their little group." He says, or rather spits. "We'll show them what we can do, I've seen you two around, you're pretty good, especially you, Nine."

"Rye." He corrects him.

"Merrick." He smirks and they shake hands.

Rye raises an eyebrow at him, then he considers his previous statement. A chance to raise hell in the arena? You can count him in, the mischief side of Rye is bubbling to the surface and he smirks too. If he can cause a bit of trouble for those the Capitol have dubbed 'the best' then he'll do his very best to knock them down a few.

He just couldn't resist it.

"Let's cause them grief, for crossing you." He grins all evil like, and Klayton just rolls his eyes.

"No. We do this strategically if we want to come out of this alive."

Whilst he's right, there is a part of him that wants to do all of those things; raise hell, cause them grief, anything to show to the Capitol that the outliers are just as good. Merrick is an enabler of that and he just can't pass on that type of opportunity. He's not going to let anyone say otherwise.

He takes up arms, ditching the sword he was going to practice with and finds a scythe amongst the blades; he brushes the fact that it is similar to the one that his father used in his Games. He'll do his best to follow Klayton's advice too, but when push comes to shove, he might not be able to help himself.

* * *

_**Tey Antracit, 15, District Twelve**_

* * *

She doesn't quite understand everything that's happening around her. The greyscale walls join into the similar coloured floors and it's all just too confusing at times. She wanders aimlessly, well they say aimlessly but Tey Antracit has been following her district partner, Albin Cimber, from the very first day of training, or at least that's what he tells her anyway.

There's a lot of things she doesn't get too, like how Mr. Ogden and Mr. Flannery had told her that she couldn't wear a dress, unlike when she wore one when her and Albin rode on the chariots that one night, she doesn't quite remember when but it's vivid in her memory.

So, she wanders aimlessly, following Albin, as she looks at all the other people in here with her. The large gymnasium has so many people in it, so many from what she's ever seen before. She can hear Albin sigh beside her as he picks up a type of dagger, she looks at it with intrigue, it looks sharp.

Tey has done everything she can do, or at least try anyway. The nice Peacekeeper from so long ago tells her to try everything that's on offer, and she's done that. Now she's bored, or she thinks she is anyway.

The small blades where they're in seems tempting, she goes to grab one of the smaller daggers. Feeling the weight of the blade in her hand, she tries to strike with it, although it feels really unnatural in her hands.

She decides against it and puts it back on the rack, the other silver blades give off a dull glow from the pale lights, not attracting her further to them. She looks at Albin, a few feet away as he strikes twice on a dummy.

"Hey Albin, why are we using weapons?"

"For the Hunger Games, Tey." He says swinging it once more and it actually cuts open the dummy, it looks like he has the weight down now. "Remember?"

"Oh…yeah…" She doesn't quite remember, but she believes him.

He has been nothing but nice to her, along with Mr. Ogden, the escort that told her that she could not wear a dress down here. She looks around to see if anyone is wearing a dress just so she can tell him that he was wrong, but alas there's no one.

Albin looks at her with a sad eye, but she smiles at him. The boy looks away from her and goes back to doing whatever it is he's using. She knows that there's something deeply wrong with her, she could not remember what though. Each time a semblance of her thoughts from that certain memory comes to her frontal lobe, her whole body gets this jolt of electricity, pulsing along her whole body.

She jerks from her thoughts, that same electric impulse making her pay attention. The motion makes her bump into the weapons rack, not enough to knock it over, but enough to attract the attention of others around them, and Albin.

"Hey, are you okay?" Albin is beside her rather quick.

"Yeah, I think so." She says, ruffling her light brown hair. "What were we doing?"

"Nothing." Albin says and he holds out his hand for Tey to grasp and she does so, she trusts him and he has been nothing but nice to her.

The boy pulls her towards one of the stations on the opposite side of the gymnasium, a dagger still in his hand and she watches him with bright green eyes. He stops and let's go of her hand. He looks at her, greyscale eyes looking back at her. "Stay here."

"Okay!" She says quite happily and Albin nods with a smile before leaving her to go back to wherever they came from.

Waiting patiently, her mind wanders back to why she is waiting in the first place. She does not remember much on why she's here, but there seems to be a lot of rope by her side and that takes her interest, the idea of waiting gone from her mind instantly.

There's a little leaflet by her side and she takes a look at that, reading everything she can and processing it in her mind. She reads about knots and other fun things you can do with a length of rope, and she has never been so interested in it.

The skills in tying up rope develop fast, he hands making quick work of what she has just read only moments ago, before she knows it, there's a half decent trap in front of her. She feels dizzy for a second before she looks at the contraption she has made.

She doesn't know what it is, she approaches it slowly, making sure she doesn't touch it; it looks dangerous, that's the first thing that comes to her mind as she sits beside it instead, her thoughts pounding at her at something she's forgetting.

"Woah!" She looks to the voice and Tey's face lights up and she approaches the girl fast.

"Hey!" She exclaims, scaring the girl slightly. "You're so pretty!"

The girl shies away from her, a touch of pink dusting her otherwise pale skin, colouring it a nice peachy colour. The girl fixes her outfit, Tey noticing a number '9' on the side of her shirt, much like Tey's on '12' on hers.

"T-thank you." She says, looking away. "My name is Avena."

"I'm Tey! Nice to meet you…"

She can't remember the name already; she only just gave it to her. She scrunches her face up to try and remember it, unable to find her name. She wonders why she can't do it, and she gets a small jolt and she goes back to reality. Why is she like this?

"Avena." She smiles at her. "Do you want to be friends?"

Although she feels bad, the thought of having a new friend makes her smile wider than she ever has before. She goes to grab both her hands; rough course hands grasp at the pale girl's dainty hands. The question of friends making her more excited than getting a new dress.

At that point she still hadn't answered her question and that's when Tey nods enthusiastically, laughing and giggling along with it which in turn makes Avena giggle too. Tey things she has a beautiful laugh and she wants to say that but Avena speaks first.

"Do you want to go build a tent?" She offers her and Tey nods, just once, as she follows the auburn-haired girl towards the next couple of stations, whatever it is she was doing there is no longer a priority now that she has Avena.

They spend the rest of the morning, building a suitable shelter for any form of weather; laughing and giggling along the way, although there's a couple of times that the girl from Nine had to reassure Tey that they're friends, but the girl doesn't seem to mind that at all.

She likes her, Tey decides, as she lies on the comfortable substitute pillow inside their makeshift shelter. There's no judgement between the two of them, everything she does she does for the both of them and Tey likes that.

"What's it like back at your home?" Avena asks her as she lies beside Tey, staring at the dried leaves that masquerades as the ceiling of their 'home'.

"I don't remember much." She's honest, at least she like to think Avena believes her that it is. "But I know that my mother likes me so much."

They giggle together, like two schoolgirls after school making their way home. Tey crawls out of the shelter and Avena follows. She gestures to one of the weapon stations and Avena gives a hesitant nod as they go together, hands holding each other for support.

"What about you?" Tey says standing beside one of the dummies, Avena looking at the weapons with a slight fear in her eyes.

"Boring." She sighs, "I miss it thought, lots of things I would rather be doing than this."

She gestures with the knife she picks up, Tey looks around the whole training centre, her mind tries to remember the greyscale walls running endlessly, the dull lights reflecting on the surface of each metallic weapons she sees.

Another sigh escapes the girl from Nine's lips which turns into a sad smile, smiling sadly for Tey who had forgotten about their conversation already. She instead watches her new friend with fondness now as Tey looks around the gymnasium.

"I want to try and practice this." She points at the knife that Avena is holding and she hands her the weapon, they both approach a training mannequin.

She immediately brings the knife down on the face of the training doll, they both hear it rip open as it cuts down the face, drawing the cotton blood. They both back away fast, Tey leaving the knife still inside the mannequin's face.

She didn't anticipate that and by the way Avena grabs hold of Tey's hand, she didn't either. She grips it tight, hurting Tey a little bit before another sharp shock jolts her hand out of reach from Avena, as if her entire body is telling her what she's done is wrong; very wrong.

Avena looks at her with shock on her eyes, a slight fear in the mix too. The jolts stop and Tey couldn't help but crouch slightly, as if all the muscles in her legs contract, she winces slightly and at that moment, Avena is by her side.

She doesn't remember why she's on the floor but Avena seems to be a familiar face, she smiles at her, a slight confusion on Tey's face because the worry on Avena's just doesn't make sense. However, her face soon melts to a smile too and that reassures the Twelve girl.

"Maybe you're not built to use weapons?" Avena tells her and all Tey can do is nod because she doesn't know what she means. _Maybe?_

"Let's go and sit down again." Avena continues, taking Tey by the back and bringing her back to one of the emptier stations, far from the watchful eyes of everyone.

"I-I don't know what's happening." Tey says, a slight trembling to her voice, and Avena cradles her running soothing circles on her back.

"It's okay…it's okay." She tells her softly. "Why don't we go look for more friends?"

She nods, getting up faster than Avena anticipates and the girl just giggles. "Yeah! That'll be fun!"

The girl's forgetfulness, although a little bit worrying, is what makes her feel alive and relevant. Tey just wishes she knows what is happening around her, the incident at the weapon station far behind her, something new is now occupying her mind space.

Avena couldn't help but smile at the girl before she follows Tey as she goes to look for more allies. The Twelve girl's optimism and hunger for friends or anything is envious, it's hard not to be upset by her actions as she watches her zoom across the gymnasium.

* * *

_**Lonan Baze, 15, District Eight**_

* * *

There has been a lot of development in the last couple days, from the Reapings to now. The spotlight on the tributes during the chariot rides as well as the chill he earns from the speech given by the President of Panem.

Now he stands here, at the knife station, taking the two girl's place from over half an hour ago, debating with the trainer that a knife is not always the easiest when it comes to killing someone; for example a sword or an axe can instantly kill someone, where as a knife takes more effort.

It seems the trainer doesn't care much of his arguments as he just stares at Lonan's smaller and lankier form. He crosses his arms, trying to ignore him now, only because they've been having the same argument for the last ten minutes now and it's nearly home time for him.

He supposes that he argues for argument's sake, but the train ride over to the Capitol so many days ago, and their chariot rides as well as the first day of training was a quiet affair. Not being able to talk in a manner that Lonan Baze prefers, where he can argue in favour of something else.

Arguing may be too harsh a word; a debate, that's what he prefers. He couldn't really do that with the people that he currently resides with. Francesca, his district partner, seems too self-absorbed at times only talking about her plans for the Games, not that he pays her too much attention in that regards; it doesn't serve as good conversation.

Their mentor also proved to be quite useless in conversation, Esme Tripoline, lazily picked at her food during the train rides and similarly last night. It makes Lonan's eyes roll just thinking about it all, as he takes the leaflet from the trainer in front of him.

He stays within the knife station for a little bit longer as he thinks off Eight's stylists; Conan Wordsworth and Hermia Winterbottom. Two very talented artists, yet very problematic in that they don't speak with you and rather at you. At least Conan is nicer than Hermia, and when on that topic the concept for their chariot outfits?

He shivers with the knife he's holding, a little pocket knife, light in his hand and durable from what he can tell. His chariot outfit, where he could barely see out of, visions and blurry memories of flowers sprouting from the colour of his shirt, dresses with holes in them. It's no wonder they came one of the last tributes when ranked by the Capitol Couture show.

He disregards all the memories as he makes sense of it all, returning back to the trainer who just sighs as he approaches him. Lonan puts on the best smile he can muster. The trainer looks down at him and before he has a chance to speak the Eight boy starts.

"So, if I had this in my pocket and a pursuer is…well pursuing me, how fast will it take for me to take the knife out? Or will I die before that happens?"

The trainer just looks at him, shock expression in his face, Lonan fingers the knife in his pocket before giving it back to the trainer. He supposes that no tribute ever mentions or argue back to the trainer, and if they did it's not normally as morbid as that.

However, when he was playing with the knife he does agree from an earlier sentiment that it would be hard to kill someone with a pocket knife, and even if you did have a chance to stab someone with it then you can't take it back because your enemy will still be alive to possibly kill you.

Not that he's not deft at holding a knife, he is, used one back home at Eight, where he would cut garments for people and opening the parcels in the shop he works in. A few small slices here and there on a human being's skin brings a hesitation to his movements. He can't fathom trying to kill someone with it, or with any weapon for that matter.

He sighs as he leaves the station, and he can be sure that he the trainer sighs a relief too. He wanders the rest of the gymnasium, the second training day of the Hunger Games is ending soon, only three more days between life and death.

The survival side of the training centre is something that he always gravitates towards, he being more on the smarter side naturally attracts him to learning about everything they have to offer him. What he wants to attract, however, are allies.

It doesn't go unnoticed that many of the tributes have settled into groups already, forming teams and alliances; maybe even friends, but who needs that when you're going to have to watch your friends die?

The Ones and Twos become allies ever since the chariots, along with the Four girl forming a solid team; sometimes terrorising the little tribute and other times laughing too loudly at something entirely not funny.

He notices an uneasy alliance between the Eleven, Four and Nine boy as they continually hang around each other, what's making them uneasy is the presence of his district partner: Francesa. He wonders what she's up to now, Lonan didn't peg her as someone that would ally with kids his age.

Then again as much as she's openly discussed her plans already, she doesn't divulge in them, doesn't disclose much information to him. Not that he minds, they're not allies so why should he know about her plan in the Hunger Games?

He walks to the trap making section, the only tribute present there is the boy from Six, who is tearing apart some sort of contraption. Curiosity strikes him again as he approaches him from the side, the boy not catching the sight of him yet.

The boy tears it down again, and then starts a stopwatch that the trainer gives out. Within minutes, the contraption he tore down mere minutes ago is now back to what it was, and the boy stops the time, and that's when Lonan makes his move.

"Now…you need to teach me how to do that." He says and the paler boy stands up quickly backing away from Lonan who steps closer with his left hand sticking out. "Lonan Baze of Eight."

He doesn't get a handshake which is fine for Lonan and as the boy speaks, he observes that his eye contact is non-existent, looking at anything but the Eight boy, that piques his interest on him even more, Lonan watching the boy's cheeks taint a slight red.

"…Cyrus…" He says meekly, hands together in front of him.

"Well it's nice to mee you, Cyrus." The Eight boy says back, happy, trying to coax to boy to engage with him, even slightly. "Now tell me how you did that!"

He is curious about it after all, and after a few minutes and deciding that Lonan isn't some sort of bad tribute Cyrus goes back to his contraption. He dismantles it quickly and looks at him, he comes closer and Cyrus begins to talk through it.

"It's a simple trap." He says. "Small enough to capture small animals, like rabbits or maybe squirrels, on the rare occasions birds."

"What about tributes?" He poses a question, fixing his already messy hair, and he can tell that Cyrus is having an internal fight about it; judging by the way he stays quiet, he had already thought about it once or twice.

"I suppose…but it will need to be a bigger trap, much bigger than this."

"Will you work with me? To make one?"

He waits for the answer, he's holding his breath, a question like that isn't normal for the both of them, but Lonan is realising that allies are vital in the arena, considering all the threats that he had analysed earlier.

"A-a trap to capture a tribute?" He says, nervousness touching his voice-box. "I-I don't know…

"Well if it was the other way around, these tributes would not hesitate to do the same thing I'm asking you, am I wrong?"

He can see the boy look around the space, and he bits on his lip a little, thinking about the proposition and that just proves the theory that Cyrus has thought about it already. The dark-haired boy goes back to the mechanism and begins to disassemble it.

"Well if that's the case…" He says continuing to disassemble the mechanism he had rebuilt a few minutes ago, and then he goes to grab more equipment and materials, Lonan just watching him. "You start with the base."

Cyrus smiles a little bit, Lonan able to tell that he's back in his element. The Eight boy helps build he trap, handing necessary materials and tools that the Six boy asks for. Lonan learns the different mechanisms of the trap itself and maybe, just maybe, he gets a valuable ally too.

"You enjoy things like this?" Lonan asks as he hands him another length of rope.

"Yeah," He stops and looks at Lonan, a tint on his face again, sighing whilst fixing another piece of wiring. "I wanted to be a mechanic growing up, anything that keeps my hands busy really, but a mechanic has always been my biggest dream."

"That makes sense, you're really good at fixing things."

Cyrus blushes again to which makes Lonan think he doesn't take compliments very well. He gives a small laugh and the Six boy blushes further.

"Thanks." Cyrus says quietly, a small smile on his face. "The last piece goes there and then it should be done."

The mechanism locks into place and the two of them step back to admire their handiwork, it doesn't look that complicated. It's a simple rope trap, one that snares the foot and hangs the captured upside down, not being able to do anything to get out of it.

"We did it." Lonan says, a touch of smile on his face. "It's missing something though."

"What's that?" Cyrus looks at him, confused.

The Eight boy doesn't say anything, instead travelling back to where he was an hour ago. The trainer stiffens up when he sees the boy approach him, the same smile he had when he was here. He looks the trainer up and down before speaking.

"This is how you solve that problem that I asked you earlier." He smiles at the trainer, who looks on with confusion over his face, the same look as Cyrus'.

Without even a second, Lonan takes the pocket knife back, taking it away from the table where he first found it; then he moves towards one of the training dummies. He sizes one of the pristine looking one and with a little difficulty he drags it out of its position.

He hauls it up by the arms, the knife in his pocket at this point and drags it. The trainer and other tributes that is currently watching him look on, some with curiosity and others just genuine confusion too.

That's when the other trainers shout at him, but all he does is ignore them, ignores the eyes of everyone else as he tries to prove his point. The heavy dummy makes it to the trap section, Cyrus stepping out of the way.

"Let's see if our trap is good enough." He says to Cyrus.

With that he places the dummy on the trap, triggering the wiring with a snap and within seconds the sounds of rope hitting the air is all he can hear and a further couple of seconds later the dummy's leg catches on the rope pulling it upwards into the air; the dummy hanging by one leg.

Lonan then takes out the pocketknife and walks towards the dummy, he clicks the knife open, the dulled blade appears instantly flashing a bit of light as he pictures opening fabric parcels and cutting fabric.

Within a few more seconds he slices open the throat of the dummy, like how he cuts fabric back at his job in Eight. He presses down hard this time though, enough to go deeper, even though it's just a small pocketknife feeling his hand go into the neck.

When he pulls out, red cotton drips out of the neck, and some stuck to his hand then he turns towards Cyrus with a small smile.

"I hope you can find it in you to ally with me?" He says. "I had a plan much earlier on but after scoping out the competition, that plan has changed."

* * *

_**Magdalene Juniper, 16, District Seven**_

* * *

She can see some of the tributes heading back to their quarters early signifying that one more day is gone, a cross on the calendar to her death. Second day of training is over and she sighs with relief as she looks for her allies.

She can't get rid of the thoughts of how near the Games are getting, and how nerve-wracking it all feels, and she doesn't doubt that the rest of the tributes are feeling this way too, but for Magdalene Juniper there is so much more riding on this.

Now that training is nearly over, she re-assures herself that she might be able to still win this, the private sessions tomorrow, something that Miriam Wood, their escort, puts great importance to as it will surely help her in getting the necessary sponsors in the arena.

Her siblings, her parents, everyone at home is rooting for her to come back and she wants to come back, no matter the cost, but she doesn't know if she can pay that high considering all that she has been through already.

She's still at one of the weapons stations, holding the same axe she has been using for the last two hours now. She reminisces the last time she held an axe; the day before the Reaping, before her life has changed for the worst.

She shakes her head at how long ago that feels, it hasn't even been a week and yet it feels like it's been months. The rigmarole of the Capitol has her and every tribute here jumping at all the hoops they throw at them.

Dressing them up in fancy clothes only to be judged by them all, then forcing these same people in a room, no matter how big, confronting each other. She doesn't approve of any of this and yet she's part of the problem, practicing the axe because she knows it's her best chance of getting home.

Still, it seems like she misses those days in comparison to today. Being able to talk to her mentor about home, about her siblings, the compliment that her mentor gives her about that motherly aura she exudes.

She smiles at the compliment, even if she dies then at least someone finds her beautiful or have the nerve to compliment her. She puts her hands closer to her chest, as if she's hugging the axe. The trainer looks at her funny before she returns the weapon.

"Are you okay, Maggie?" Ander is beside her now having been working on his survival skills. "If you're finished here, I have sorted through the poisonous plants."

She smiles at him and follows the smaller boy, her district partner, reminds her of her siblings. Young and carefree, as if nothing is going to stop their endless energy. Though Ander seems smarter than your average twelve-year-old, she still relates her siblings to him.

He stops at the station and she looks at all the work her district partner has done and she smiles. She has said it to herself, but the boy is clever indeed, the plants are in two neat rows: good and bad and she ganders at both lists.

"All correct!" She exclaims, smiling radiantly at the boy. "Well done, Ander!"

He smiles brashly, scratching the back of his head, a true talent and quite an asset to the alliance and Maggie sees that. Ander may be only twelve, but he seems more mature and a lot smarter than what he appears to be. If anything, he would make a good lumberjack back at home.

He is also the one that suggests that allies are what they need, adding to her praises as she ticks everything in her head about how good he is. She knows that they're not related in anyway other than sharing the same district, but she feels a sense of pride well up in her.

They did end up with allies when they started the second day of training, and today they've made friends with both Tey and Avena too, the girls from Twelve and Nine respectively, then soon after Bailey and Gharial from Ten joins them.

She looks around, there's only about a half hour left of training. Everyone is doing their own thing at the moment, she with her axe practice, although now she's with Ander at the edible plant section; Avena and Tey stay together at the fire making station, laughing away as if they have been friends forever.

Gharial she spots is practicing with spears, she notices the One boy lingering around that area at the same time as the boy from Ten, but she knows full well that Gharial is loyal to his new found alliance; Bailey is close by, watching her district partner train, cheering him on whenever he makes a clear stab, like a little sister watching her big brother at some sort of event.

When Gideon mentions her motherly nature, she didn't expect to befriend most of the young tributes, but she would never look back. She has to find them some sort of semblance in the Games, some sort of normalcy in such uncertain times.

However, there is this small insignificant thought in her head, saying that she would not be able to save them all and that she would have to watch them die. She brushes that ugly thought aside; she doesn't need that just now.

For now, she watches them all, pride welling up in her heart. She's proud of them because each one of he allies are good at something and that's enough for her, she knows that they're all good people and that nothing is going to change that.

Avena, although lacking in her self-confidence is shown to be adept at medical injuries, after watching her bandage certain injuries and the knowledge she has is pretty good, and Bailey has that affinity too. Maggie thinks these two would do well in the Games; whereas Tey would make them feel grounded as she's got that positive aura about her.

Ander is a jack of all trades and Maggie knows that already, the other tributes will not know what hits them whereas Gharial is their strong man, she knows this team is young, but she believes it can work.

With the final whistle to end all activities shrill in their ears, they gather by the entrance. Ander talking about how he feels ready for the Games with how big their alliance is becoming. She smiles at Tey and Avena as they approach them, soon Gharial and Bailey follow them.

"Great work today, guys, I'm so glad we all found each other!" Maggie says, a bright tone to her voice. "If we keep going like this, then I'm sure we'll get far."

"You think so?" Tey asks, hopeful green eyes stare at brown eyes, although she notices that it becomes vacant just as quickly as she speaks.

"I hope so…" Bailey says hiding behind Gharial, who puts a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think we're that good, considering the other tributes out there…"

"Of course, we are!" Ander says with furrowed brows looking at Bailey who shrinks further behind her district partner.

She can tell that there's a slight tone of annoyance within Ander's voice, but she's sure he doesn't mean that, he can get pretty passionate about things, much like her brothers back at home whenever they go out to play games.

"Now, now." Maggie decides to interject, then looking at Bailey. "We'll do just fine, you have myself and Gharial, right?"

Maggie then looks at Gharial for support, the tallest of the group's cheeks tint a slight pink when everyone is staring at him all at once. He just nods his head and Bailey too nods her head in approval. Out of the alliance, she thinks she can relate to Gharial the most, in terms of their personality.

They both have a sense of responsibility and protectiveness, Maggie with Ander and Gharial with Bailey. She admires him a lot for it, although they have barely spoke to each other; from what she can discern, though, he can be quite protective of his siblings too, much like her.

"Will we really be okay?" Avena looks to Maggie this time and the Seven girl just nods her head, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Yes. We will." Maggie says, approaching the girl and holding both her hands, giving them a squeeze of reassurance, they look at each other, warm brown eyes meeting hesitant green ones.

Avena just smiles, not saying anything to the group as she pulls her hand away from Maggie, she nods her head and then begins to leave for the elevator, Tey following her along with Gharial and Bailey.

She can hear the two girls talking, she can't help but feel that didn't end well, and that she now has to fix that. She looks at her hands, the warmth from holding Avena is still there. She feels unsure about the things she says, worrying that it may not have reached their ears. She will try her best, just not for her, but for everyone too.

"Shall we go back too?" Ander asks her.

"Yes, let's go back." She says and they begin to walk to the elevator.

She will stay her optimistic self; it is what the group needs at this moment in time. It is very important to keep the morale up, just as she would for her siblings when they're all upset when she leaves for work and they can't play games outside.

As they ascend the building inside the metal box, up to the Seven living quarters, she thinks about the impact she may have on the other tributes. Her skills surely must go unnoticed when performing them, with her axe skills and the ones she learned along the way, she is definitely a good competitor.

She heads straight for the living room where Gideon and Miriam are sitting, looking at her expectantly. She notes that Thomas, her actual mentor, is not present.

"How was training?" Gideon asks them.

"Great! Fantastic!" Ander runs past Maggie and plops beside Miriam, munching on grapes that has suddenly appear in his hands.

"Well looks like it for sure!" Miriam huffs and wipes up the juices from the boy's face.

"Miriam, it's okay!" Ander moans as the older woman attacks his face with her cloth, him trying to bat it away.

Miriam is nicer than most Capitolites she's met. She also exudes an almost motherly aura, and cares a lot for her tributes.

"What about you, dear?" Miriam turns to Maggie now.

"Yeah, how is being a leader?" Gideon asks, already finding out about their alliance.

The idea of being a leader doesn't sit well in her stomach, making her feel uneasy as she sits beside Gideon. She feigns a small smile before looking away from Gideon and Miriam. "Good, although I wouldn't call myself the leader."

"Gharial seems more leaderlike than I am." She adds quietly and shyly.

"She is _so _our leader!" Ander says with a mouthful of grapes, jumping up and down now, it's as if training didn't affect his tiredness at all. "She brought us together, why shouldn't you be the leader, Maggie?"

"The kid has a point. You have all the qualities for a great leader, so you should own it, don't put yourself down so easily like that, okay?" Gideon smiles at her and she blushes.

"I guess…"

"Darling, you're going to be marvellous!" Miriam says with a smile of her own.

"Thank you, Miriam." She smiles now too.

"You're welcome." She says and then stands up. "Now go and wash up, the both of you, dinner is in an hour, we'll talk about the upcoming private sessions as well as the interviews tonight," she rushes them both, "go on! Chop, chop!"

"Okay!" Ander says running away from the small group back to his own room, Miriam shouting for him to slow down some.

Maggie smiles to herself because for the first time, since stepping on that train, she actually believes that she can do it, that she actually might have a good chance with her alliance.

* * *

**A/N - Hello!**

**I'm back! I have been terribly busy the last couple of months, my profile updates says it all! I hope you are all staying safe during these troubling times, and that you all are okay!**

**Back to the chapter: What do you guys think? I haven't updated in a while but I want you guys to know that I am fully committed to this story. My promise to myself is to finish a whole story.**

**What do you think of Rye's distaste for Francesca, but also their alliance?  
What about Tey and her very confusing life?  
What is all that about with Lonan?  
What will happen to Maggie's alliance?**

**Also thank you to all those that still read these, I do appreciate a comment now and again, and thank you to those who submitted these wonderful characters. Special guest star Avena Garner for appearing in three of the four POVs in this chapter. I didn't plan that at all, just so happen that she's there.**

**I'll list down the current alliance revealed so far here too:**

**Team 1 - 'Careers' - _Velvet_, D1F; _Carnelian_, D1M; _Diana_**, **D2F; _Antonio_, D2M; _Lily_, D4F  
**

**Team 2 - 'Anti-Careers' - _Klayton_, D11M; _Rye_, D9M; _Merrick_, D4M; _Francesca_, D8F**

**Team 3 - 'Mothercare' - _Magdalene_, D7F; _Ander_, D7M; _Bailey_, D10F; _Gharial_, D10M; _Avena_, D9F; _Tey_, D12F  
**

**Team 4 - 'L&C' - _Lonan_, D8M; _Cyrus_, D6M**

**What do you guys think?**

**The next chapter goes from training, to private sessions then to scores. So brace yourselves! (It might be a shorter chapter but I'll try not to make it one.)**

**Cheers!**

**~Alec**


	16. Chapter 11: Anger, Resentment & Jealousy

_"Anger, resentment and jealousy doesn't change the heart of others- it only changes yours."  
~Shannon Alder_

* * *

_**Cyrus Sunbeam, 15, District Six**_

* * *

There haven't been too many mornings as of late that he would quantify as nice and comfortable, but upon waking this morning and getting ready for the last day of training; Cyrus Sunbeam finds it quite comforting that the awkward silence between himself and Chevelle has all but vanished.

They eat silently at the breakfast table, mountains of food in between the two yet neither has that much on their plate. Cyrus with a filling toast and jam, and Chevelle with her porridge. The stale looking food disgusted Cyrus, but he doesn't comment in favour of keeping the peace between the two of them.

Still, he ponders if having breakfast in the Capitol mere days away from the Hunger Games can be considered comfortable, and worse still, he has to go and perform for that scary lady – Theodora Vidia. He wonders if Chevelle scares her too, but with such a strong attitude, he doesn't think Chevelle is scared of much.

Chevelle sips on a hot drink, flicking through some tabloid magazine that she's apparently found at the table, probably left by their absent escort: Charles. The man has been nothing but supportive towards the two, and yet Chevelle doesn't listen to him, which in turn upsets Cyrus.

But he keeps quiet.

He crunches on his toast once more, the sickly-sweet jam attacking his taste senses, savouring every minute of it. He chases it up with a glass of cold milk, mellowing the taste in his mouth but refreshing, nonetheless. There's not much he can comment about the Capitol food, it's good and he likes that.

He knows that this feeling isn't going to last, the impending doom is fast approaching and his only takeaway from the last few days is that he has stayed relatively quiet. Relatively being the key word because he just allied with Lonan from Eight, the tribute that made heads turn towards the end of training with the trap, he does take partial credit, that they both built.

He doesn't think about that time, how he felt embarrassed and wanted to leave there and then. He doesn't do well with big crowds and he also disliked it when the tributes, trainers and Peacekeepers stared at Lonan's grand gesture.

He finished the rest of the milk off and placed the glass on the table with a bit of a thud. He smiled to himself and only then he notices Chevelle looking at him, he smiles back as their eyes meet; a bright hazel eyes asking her what she wants.

"Enjoyed that did you?" She smiles as she moves on to some apple slices, slipping one into her mouth with a resounding crunch.

"It's delicious." Cyrus continues to smile, it's true, they never get to eat freshly baked bread back home in Six, sure they bake bread now and again, but his parents tend to store it for when they cannot afford to eat.

Chevelle's general personality has changed the last couple of days. Cyrus thinks it's because of the reality of the Games, and that outburst during the end of the Capitol is just her very explosive personality, and the fact that she had just been ripped out of her home, no matter how poor they both were.

She has calmed down quite a bit and had been practicing mostly skills for combat. He maybe had watched her from time to time during the last few days, but he can't help it. She's alluring and mysterious, she rarely shares her homelife and he likes that, he supposes.

Cyrus thinks she's quietened down after seeing the absolute state of their mentor, Dashiell Stoppard. Her plan of asking him to actually mentor the two of them ceases to become her priority when the man was passed out on the living room of their quarters, withdrawing from Morphling.

Charles had been a better mentor to them both than Dash has ever been, although saying that, they finally saw Dash for the first-time last night; with his unruly dark hair, messy as if he's just left his bed; bags under his eyes, clearly insomnia taken over and yet the victor actually conversed with them, being generally pleasant, finding out about his life, a comfortable one it seemed until he was ripped from his home like they had been.

Chevelle didn't interact much that night, only eating her food and Cyrus thought that her interest in getting any sort of help or advice from Dash is gone. She finished her food fast that night, wiped her face and then excused herself from the table.

"How has your training been?" He asks her, considering she is going through it alone, hearing about the refusals she's been making from some fairly good allies.

"I'm trying to keep mostly to myself, but good otherwise." She says through apple slices, then she smirks at him and he tilts his head like a puppy. "I saw that you got yourself an ally, and a very odd one at that."

Odd is not the only thing he would describe him as, but as soon as that performance had finished, and everyone returned back to their previous activity they actually got to talking. He finds out about Lonan's life back at home and he too share his own experiences, finding out that his birthday was the day before, on the first day of training and that he hadn't told anyone other than him.

"He's a good guy." He finally says, settling on that word with a smile.

"He looks it," She tells him adding more slices onto her small plate. "I overheard from Charles that you two were the talk of the Capitol yesterday."

He blushes at that, as he looks away. The tint of his paler face colouring a shade of pink as he focuses on the clock on the wall. The mechanism of it all interesting him, and the itching to tear it apart with his hands starting again.

"Just be careful, okay?" He looks to Chevelle with a slight shock this time, but he didn't think he had seen it on his face. "He's good, but he seems the type that will use you and then leave you when he's done."

"Thanks." It's the only thing he can say at that moment, unable to think of anything bad about Lonan at this point in time, other than being a bit more erratic than him. "I'll keep that in my mind."

It will seriously impact him from then on, he's trusting, and he wants to trust in Lonan, but if what Chevelle is saying is correct then maybe he does have to watch out for himself. He closes his eyes as he thinks about it all, not wanting to think badly of him already when he's not even done anything to him yet.

And in Chevelle's defence, Dash had said the same thing when they were at the dinner table last night. He had actually given him advice, stating that practicing weapons is a good thing, even if he doesn't become proficient in it, he tells him that it's a good idea, nonetheless.

Another good idea is that he should start training himself up for weapons, it is the last day of training and Dash had put such a great importance over the weapons, an astute observation he makes during the non-hazy days that he has.

He can remember the young victor smile and that's when Cyrus knew that he was not such a bad person. He can try to fix it all, as with his nature to fix things but he knows, and Dash knows that he will not take to fixing his life. He understands that Dash only does what he does to take the pain away from the Hunger Games, the very same one that he's about to go into, making him wonder if he's going to be the same.

He doesn't want to end up like him.

"What about you?" He asks Chevelle, who stops mid bite and looks at him. "Did you finally accept allies instead of rejecting them?"

"None." She says simply, the quietness afterwards making it awkward. "I prefer it that way, the girl from One has been annoying me since the very first day of training though." She takes a bit of her apple slice, the juices spilling at the side of her chin as she continues, "but other than that, I prefer if I go through the Games alone."

Cyrus can only nod, remembering the rejection he got from her during the train rides, the first time they have ever met each other and the only time he felt uneasy around her. He played it off as not wanting to form an alliance with her, but he really did at that point.

"Is there anything else you've noticed about the other tributes?" He asks hopeful. "The Five boy, Shade, is always lurking around in the dark corners of the training areas; and the boy from Twelve has been focused on nothing but weaponry."

"Now that you've mentioned it." She says contemplating at her own observations. "I saw the Five girl talk to one of the Peacekeepers after training yesterday…"

"Any reason why?"

"I don't know, I didn't really pay much attention to her." She shrugs taking the last slice and crunching on it. "Neither should you! You should focus on your own allies and getting out of here alive."

She's right, he thinks she always is, a lot more mature than he will ever be despite having similar ages. He looks down at his empty plate, crumbs are all that's left, he thinks that he has done enough survival skills for sure and decide to take the advice of both his mentor and escort.

He needs to focus now more than ever and not care about the other tributes, not unless it concerns him. He stands up and looks at Chevelle and then the clock on the wall. "We should go then."

The blonde-haired girl stands up, not saying anything else and he follows her outside of the living space they share for the week. Traversing past the depressing grey hallway to the silver elevator. They quietly make it down to the gymnasium, and as they reach the entrance, they separate without another word to each other.

Chevelle makes it to the throwing knives section once more, where she has been for the last three days now; and Cyrus makes it to the spear section of the weapons station, lifting up a heavier spear with a bit more strength that he probably doesn't have for long.

He approaches a dummy, suddenly noticing that Lonan is nowhere to be seen at this current time, although he did say that they should meet up before the private sessions and not during training, opting for the two of them to refine and work on their skills.

Although his skills aren't going to improve because Cyrus drops the weighty spear for the fifth time already, not even getting a chance to strike at the dummy yet. He takes it back and he notices the training looking at him with a friendly smile.

"It would probably be more helpful using a spear that's half your size, it'll be a little bit lighter for you." She says with the same smile before handing him a smaller spear.

He takes it graciously, shying away from her already as he makes his way back to the training dummies. He finds that his balance is better and that he feels a bit more confident than before. He notices the trainer following him.

She talks him through the basics of spear fighting, the long-range capabilities as well as the short range; the common pitfalls and knowing when to strike. He learns very well, impressing the woman as she goes to teach him how to defend himself and use it to escape combat.

He tries all of those lessons, gaining more and more confident as he improves the spear skills he didn't have before. He knows that he's never going to be exceptionally good at it, but it's something. The Four girl nearby using the spear does intimidate him slightly, watching her strike hard and fast.

He is at awe of the girl as she hits every possible angle, the trainer looks at her too in the same shock and awe as Cyrus. He turns his back to the Four girl, opting to look for Lonan now. He hands the spear back to the woman and he thanks her before leaving the station.

Lonan is sitting by the obstacle course, still fiddling with the same pocket knife he used yesterday. He looks lost in trance with it all, as if that moment yesterday has affected him in some way but he doesn't take that into account, not yet, as he sits beside the boy.

"Morning." He says looking at Cyrus a small smile on his face. "Spears, huh? A good choice."

He didn't know that he was watching him earlier and he rubs his hands, feeling the callous on them from his extensive mechanical work from home. "Yeah but I'm not as good as that girl."

He is obviously talking about the girl from Four, and Lonan scoffs at her. Pocketing the knife and looking at Cyrus properly. "If you were that good you wouldn't have allied with me, and as much as I like you as a person, I think having you be as good as that would scare me."

"I suppose…" He says with a sad sigh. "I shouldn't let that affect me, right?"

"Correct." Lonan says smiling once more. "All that skill for one thing doesn't compare to what you and I can do together."

He doesn't say anything, instead opting to smile as they near the time for the sessions. He still hasn't made up his mind about what to show her, but he knows that he's not going to show his spear skills.

* * *

_**Diana Grey, 18, District Two**_

* * *

The days is going well so far, she practices hard with daggers because she knows that's what she is going to use to show that woman Theodora. She'll get a good score and she'll breeze through the Hunger Games, using her allies as the stepping stone and catalyst.

It has been three days since she's met everyone in her alliance, and Diana Grey prefers to be alone most of the time because of it. She's biding her time until she has to actually work with them in the arena, it's better this way, that's what she thinks but their 'leader' doesn't seem to think that's the case.

The brown-haired One girl, Velvet, has become the leader of their group, unanimous of course, not that anyone else wanted to go up for that position. Carnelian isn't taking the Games serious enough to lead four other strong tributes; Tony wouldn't even think about it, and neither would she for that matter; Lily, well she's already an outsider, not having her district partner to back up her points.

Saying all that, Diana, convinces herself that Velvet would not listen to any of the other tributes in her team. She just gets that vibe, often avoiding the girl unless it's really important, or if she decides to hold another group meeting.

She can picture Velvet having a genuine issue if either Tony or herself becomes the leader. She would become a hazard and it's just so much easier letting her do all the talking and Diana can focus on something else entirely, mainly trying to scope out her allies' weaknesses.

Velvet listens to their opinions, sure, but she doesn't really enact on them and instead going for her own ideas instead. Not that Diana cares much but it does grind her stones when the idea is considered good amongst the group.

The only person she would listen to actively is Carnelian, the clown of the group, or that's what she tells Tony after every practice. Nothing wrong with that, but the Hunger Games is such a big honour and all Carnelian does is joke around and help the other tributes, which she finds fair but unsettling.

Carnelian and Velvet have known each other for years, apparently. Having both going to the same school; the prestigious Beacon Academy, and are the top of their class, Carnelian over Velvet, surprisingly. Carnelian teases and annoys Velvet too much and yet they're still good friends, the difference between their relationship and her and Tony's relationship is striking.

Comparing this year's tributes in One and Two is like comparing a fluffy delicate cloud to those of hard rock. Two gorgeous angels and two humans on Earth. Diana and Tony don't share the same relationship as what Carnelian and Velvet has, and it makes her slightly jealous.

The only person she would consider close would be Tony but talking to the boy is like trying to get water from a dry rock. She talks to him on their off time, mainly at dinner and afterwards, and yet she barely knows anything about the boy.

Then there is Lily, the girl from Four, face of an angel but brutality of a grown man, a beautiful killer. The first day where she decimated half of the dummies on display is one that would stay with Diana, and from then one she makes a mental note to keep an eye out for this girl.

Both the Fours seem to be good this year, which is surprising because it's either one or the other, or so her mentor, Lyre Feldspar, tells her. However, the boy gets kicked out almost immediately by Velvet after the first day of training is over.

She admits that it felt good and fun when Velvet said that she did not want Merrick to be in their group, she revels in the way the boy's face contorts into anger and then she watches as the boy too decimates more dummies with a sword, she wants to face him in battle for sure.

Though she dislikes his personality, cocky and a smartass, she knows full well that he isn't going to last long in the arena with that type of personality, especially if both her and Velvet are targeting him in the arena.

Another swift work with the daggers in her hands puts a dummy on the floor, soft cotton blood spilling everywhere and she smirks. It's too easy when they dummy don't fight back, she wishes she can spar with the other tributes, but that's too dangerous, she might end up taking it too far.

She feels ready to show off what she has to show during her time in the private session, she feels in peak physical form. That's what Lyre tells her anyway, she likes her well enough and she listens to her advice whenever she tells them, respecting the woman for standing up to the likes of Leroy Ramnes and Ajax Craik; two victors with an infamous story to them.

She strikes at another dummy as she thinks of working an 'angle'. She decides on continuing to be her usual cheery self, something that Lyre approves of making her feel good about herself. She doesn't know if it's growing up in a respectable household, but praise is rare for Diana and whenever she receives one, she feels a jolt of happiness.

Little knows about Diana's constant need for approval, despite not showing it on the outside she tends to keep it all in, finding it a weakness that people can exploit. The need for appraisal deepened when she enrolled in the military training facility: The Nut, after her brother and father.

She will stop at nothing to earn a good praise from someone, even her allies if it comes to it. An addiction she tries to hide but continues to fail and do. The respect from being appraised so highly is something she strives for the most.

However, it's hard to do this cheery disposition she's trying to adopt when all Velvet can do is be controlling, thinly veiling her threats with a smile on her pretty face. She agrees with all the plans that Velvet is proposing, but when everyone is already on board there is no need to reiterate it ever chance they're together, it's as if she's trying to reassure herself.

"Diana Grey." Speaking of allies, "Dagger training again? You're already the best dagger user in these Games alone why the need to train some more?"

Carnelian Wolfe walks towards her, the same goofy smile on his face from the very first time she's met the boy. Dirty brown hair, messy as friendly blue eyes stare at her brown ones. Despite wanting to be the chattiest amongst the group, Carnelian outdoes her in that aspect, always talking and practicing the least out of all of them.

Diana can get chatty too, but Carnelian's level of chatting is on the next level, leagues and leagues higher than her own, even better than some politician. She shakes her head as she puts the daggers down on one of the racks.

Despite all of this, she likes the guy. What's not to like about him? Good personality, good chat, handsome to boot, he's the perfect One tribute. He can be pretty funny too, at times, especially when he makes Velvet angry.

He stops in front of her and places a hand on her shoulder, she likes him but not that much as she looks at him with a smile on her face. "I suggest you take that hand off before it comes off."

"Woah!" He says backing away, hands up in surrender. "Looks like someone didn't have their morning porridge this morning."

"Looks like someone got too many of theirs." She says with a small smile as she crosses her hands. "What do you want anyway?"

"Group meeting; there's an hour or so left before we begin our private sessions." He says pointing with his thumb behind him.

"Fine." She sighs. "This better be our last group meeting, ever."

"You know it won't be." Carnelian laughs as he begins to walk back to Velvet.

"If we hold a group meeting in the middle of the Bloodbath, I swear to Panem this girl is obsessed." She sighs and Carnelian continues to laugh.

"You're funny, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I make people say it, but thanks." She says looking away from him.

"Vel is just very meticulous, she's always been like this." He shrugs his shoulders with a half-smile. "Better to be prepared than not, right?"

She agrees with that statement as they pass by other tributes practicing to the last minute and others resting before they have to show their skills, which can mean life or death for some of them. She follows the boy scoffing at the ones that are still practicing, as if it's going to make an ounce of difference.

Tony is already there at the meeting place, arms crossed and looking as broody as always. She can't help but roll her eyes, but she approaches the boy, and upon closer look he seems more moody. Someone must have pried him away from his last minute practice too, and she knows from Adrestia, their other mentor, that he does not like that; her mentioning that Tony likes to stay late at the infamous Gladius Academy to fit in extra practice.

"Everyone here?" Velvet announces walking up to them, Lily behind her looking like that very same beauty from the chariot rides. "Good. What I wanted you all here is to talk about our plan at the very beginning of the Games."

"Kill the threats, then claim the spoils." Carnelian says, interrupting Velvet's speech, and Diana hides her smirk from behind calloused hands before speaking up.

"Then we go hunting later that day." Diana adds.

You can tell that she did not like all of that speaking over her as she crosses her arms in defence and smiles at the both of them with what can only be described as 'fake'. She huffs a little bit before starting again.

"_As _I was saying- "

"Oh, come on Vel, loosen up a little? We know the plan, that's all you talk about."

"Knowing the plan is one thing, Carnelian, but strategizing and actually listening to me is another." She huffs once more, and although she spent most of yesterday appearing threatening towards some of the other tributes, she's still hellbent that no one is listening to her.

They don't have long left and Diana wants to fit in some more practice, she's trained all her life for this and she wants to perfect her techniques, even if she doesn't practice she just wants a break from this group and relax, recharge by herself.

Time escapes them as the trainers signal the end of the third day of training, Peacekeepers usher them into the Cafeteria, she sits down first, Tony following her and sitting beside next to her, now looking for stoic than annoyed. He is watching the other alliances of the tributes forming; mainly the girl from Seven and her alliance of young tributes.

She scoots in closer, sensing the hesitation in his muscular stature. "Don't worry about it too much, Tony." She whispers in his ear, "we can talk about it afterwards if you want?"

"There's nothing to talk about, I knew what I was doing when I entered and volunteered for these Games."

Diana only nods her head as she returns to her previous place. She didn't anticipate the abundance of young tributes this year, two twelve-year olds reaped this year, and both are in the same alliance they're staring at now. He might not show it, but she can tell an internal struggle happening inside of him, and she can probably use this as a weakness, as sadistic and morbid as that sounds.

She doesn't push it too much, listening as the intercom calls for Velvet first, still a quiet rage from the disruption from her and Carnelian, essentially telling her to pull the stick from her ass. She cheers on with Carnelian, shooting the two death glares as she breathes out all the stress and walks out of the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is quiet, much more than usual as she kicks her feet from underneath the table. Two minutes pass by before Carnelian's name is what's blaring through the intercom. He stands up, fixing his uniform before turning to the rest of them.

"See you on the other side!" He tells them, locking eyes with Diana who gives him a sarcastic thumbs up.

Carnelian rushes out the cafeteria and that's when the silence creeps in again, she turns to Tony once more. "What are you planning on showing them?"

"Sword skills," Tony replies. "What else is there to show?"

"True," she rolls her eyes before turning towards Lily now. "What about you, Lily?"

"Spear skills, maybe use a dagger too, that's what you're going to do, right?" She replies and Diana nods at her question.

She still has no idea what Lily's aim. She's quiet for the most part and speaks when the conversation turns towards her and that is it. Diana can't formulate any sort of plan on how to defeat this girl, she's mysterious and like she says; a beautiful killer and needs her keen eyes to watch her.

"_Diana Grey, District Two." _

The intercom says her name, Diana stands, wishing both Lily and Tony a good luck before making her way towards the only entrance. The Peacekeeper checks her name and they permit her to exit the cafeteria, the hall is cool and quiet as the door slides open to an empty gymnasium.

She has never seen it like this before, a slight awe as she drinks the huge empty space in front of her. Several dummies are in a corner on standby, ready for whatever any tribute will do to them. She stands on the white cross, positioned there so they stare up at Theodora Vidia, sitting on her high perch in a balcony carved onto one of the gymnasium walls.

"State you name and district." Her voice is sharp and emotionless as it echoes in the great hall.

"Diana Grey, District Two." She says proudly, a smile on her face.

"Proceed." The Head Gamemaker gestures, taking of her glasses and placing on top of her head, leaning forward to watch Diana's performance.

She doesn't show an ounce of personality on her face, a great poker face and that unnerves Diana slightly, not being able to discern if what's she's doing is good or not, unlike back at home in Two. She pushes it down, however, as she goes to take a dagger from the weapons rack.

The dummies are brought closer to her by some mechanism, she jogs halfway to them. She shakes her head, trying to focus, now is not the time to think about praises readying her stance, gripping at the dagger tightly, she takes a deep breath and with the silence engulfing her aura.

She pounces.

* * *

_**Mari Caresse Katou, 15, District Three**_

* * *

She's already too nervous for this, and it's only been a minute into her private sessions. Mari Caresse Katou cannot handle this kind of situation at all as she furiously tries her best to gather the necessary material she needs.

The moment she said her name and the Head Gamemaker tells her to begin she's already scrambling at what to do with herself, panicking as she makes her way to a station. Tears threaten her eyes, prickling and blurring her vision as she reaches for some firewood.

She takes a deep breath in, trying to calm herself as she clutches the firewood close to her, placing it in front of the Head Gamemaker, who only raises an eyebrow. She doesn't pay her any more attention; it will only add to her nervousness as she returns to the station where he found the wood.

She'll start a fire, that's what she decides to show the woman as she gathers drier leaves as well as the flint and steel. She rushes back at the sticks, spreading the leaves everywhere, pausing as she holds the flint and steel in her shaking hands.

Mari gets to work, smashing the two items in her hand together causing sparks to fly, her whole body willing for the fire to start. She tries several times, feeling more and more anxious as the time ticks away, and with the last few sparks the leaves catch the spark lighting a magnificent flame in front of her.

She feels the warmth envelop her hands and then her body, relaxing a little as she smiles. She looks at the woman and she's scribbling something on her notepad before looking at Mari again, expressionless. She shouldn't have done that, look at the brown-haired woman, because now she's thinking that the Head Gamemaker didn't look impressed at all.

She continues to write back into her notepad and Mari stands there for a few seconds wondering what to do next, anxiety rising once more as the fire blazes on. She looks at all the stations pushed to the sides of the gymnasium, trying to think of what to show next but her mind is going blank.

"You have a few minutes left, Mari." She echoes in the room, voice concise and clear. "Would you like to show anything else?"

She nods her head when she looks back, nervous brown eyes staring directly at unreadable blue eyes. Then she springs to action as soon as her eyes land on the shelter making station, one of the first things she's learnt here in the Capitol.

She gathers tarp, branches and anything she might need for a shelter, draping everything over branches and placing sturdier sticks at the bottom to prop it up. Once she's happy with the tent she goes to get a bucket of water from one of the other stations, and she splashes it on the shelter.

It repels the water cleanly, the liquid splashing on the floor. She demonstrates the durability of it too by trying to shake it from the outside and then she crawls inside and does the same, the shelter moving but never collapsing.

Mari stops herself inside the tent, remembering the time where she and Zhi nearly touch inside the tent, her face blushes at the memory, but soon it's replaced with sadness because from that day, the first day, she barely sees Zhi during the training day, him becoming more distant and hesitant when around her.

She climbs out of the tent, sadness claiming her face more than happiness from making a perfect shelter. Theodora doesn't seem to notice, or if she did she didn't show it as she scribbles her final notes on her notepad.

"Well done, dear." She says, Mari hearing the soft tone in her voice as she looks at the woman. "You may go."

Mari follows Theodora's gesturing hand towards a different exit, unsure of herself even more than when she walked in at the start of her session. She holds her hand close to herself when the Peacekeepers walk her back to the elevator.

Her thoughts are consuming her, as she walks slowly towards the metal doors of the elevator. She's already grading herself from the private sessions, being so critical of herself. She could have started that fire faster and make the shelter in front of it.

She shakes herself, sadness washing over her as the door slides open into the hallway back to her quarters. She opens the door to see the empty living space. The Peacekeeper doesn't escort her back to her temporary home and as soon as she's inside, she rushes back to her own room; thinking about how low her score is going to be and how fast she's going to die in the arena.

Such thoughts bring tears to Mari's eyes as she collapses on her bed, the smooth and soft feeling enveloping her, yet she doesn't enjoy it as she begins to cry. She doesn't want to die, no one deserves to die. Her tears that were held back during the private sessions releasing in waves as she hugs one of her pillows.

The thought of dying petrifying her to her core and in between the sobs she flinches at the thoughts of an axe piercing her back, or a sword decapitating her head; or a spear puncturing her stomach clean through.

She cries thinking about her mother, the poor woman on her own with her youngest sister, and her brothers and father who she had not seen for years. She clutches the pillow, willing it to hug her back and give her the comfort she wants but is not getting.

She hugs the pillow tighter, thinking about how she would never see Zhi again.

A knock on the door drives her away from her self-pity, looking at the door in the dark, hiding behind her pillow as if a monster is going to walk in at any moment, another knock makes her flinch as she pushes the pillow aside, walking towards it wiping away at her tears and putting on a brave face.

She opens it to see her stylist, Yoshi Cabochon, standing at her door, wearing a white shirt and tie. His black slacks glisten with the light within their hall. He smiles down at her, then frowns when he clearly finds that something is not right.

She backs away from him and the man lets himself in the dim room, turning on the lights. Mari furrowing her brows at the harsh light, she didn't know that she's been lying in the dark for so long. Yoshi walks past her and places a glass of water on her bedside table, beside the bright white lamp.

She follows him, avoiding eye contact and instead focusing all her attention on the water. She gulps down before picking it up and drinking it. She swallows most of it before placing back down, the sound of a soft thud on the wooden bedside table makes her flinch, only slightly.

"What's the matter, Mari?" He asks her, finally after a long silence between the two.

She thinks about what to say, staying quiet as she stands at the edge of her bed, fingering the bedsheets playing with a loose string from it. Mari isn't paying attention, thinking that they have noticed a change in her personality over the last few days, barely speaking to anyone other than Zhi or their mentor, Rolex.

She didn't say much before the Tribute Parade either, and Yoshi notices then, or at least Mari thinks he did. Now he's confronting her about it, and the brown-haired girl does not like that as much. Not that she has anything against her stylist, Yoshi isn't a bad man.

She finds a reason as to why she's sad, and every possibility leads to the Capitol. She hates it here, she misses her home, she misses her family, and she hates the Capitol for taking them all away from her.

"It's nothing." She decides to say eventually sitting by her desk, looking at the sad girl reflecting on the mirror, she can barely recognise herself.

"You know," Yoshi starts pushing black hair away from his face showing off deep laughter lines from the corner of his eyes, as he sits down on her bed. "I have been a stylist for ten years, since the very beginning of the Tenth Hunger Games, and yes I was naïve at the start of the job, and yes I was very young and foolish back then to pay attention to my own tribute."

He looks at Mari who stays quiet, hanging on to every word he speaks, he smiles sadly. "I have learned so many things since then, especially how Rolex cared so deeply for the tributes under his care, and with his victory during the Eighteenth Hunger Games, eight years into my job, I have learned to sympathise with the tributes I am given."

He stands up from the bed and makes his way towards Mari, who wipes away at the tears in her eyes. He kneels in front of her, brushing away brown hair from her face, looking at him with dark, friendly eyes.

"I know you've been dealt a bad hand, but keeping everything to yourself? Mari, that's not good."

She bursts out crying again, Yoshi going in for a hug as she hugs him back tighter than when she hugged the pillow earlier. Her sobs are the only thing you can hear in the room, her tears staining the white shirt as she continues to cry.

She couldn't breathe, the sobs taking over as she cries uncontrollably onto the man. Her hug never relenting, the same tightness from when she first started. Yoshi's delicate hands rubs her back, as he cradles the crying girl.

She eventually pulls away and Yoshi wipes at the tears from her eyes. She feels her face swelling from all the crying, and Yoshi can only give her a supportive smile. She doesn't look away this time, instead nodding at him to signify that she's feeling better.

"Now, let's start again." He says to her. "What's the matter?"

"This!" She gestures to the whole room and everything. "This whole Hunger Games have ruined my life, taken everything away from me. The Capitol is evil, and I hate it. I hate everything!"

She wipes at her eyes with the tissue Yoshi offers her. She feels better after that, but she finds it odd that she confides to her stylist rather than her district partner. Zhi is still nowhere to be seen, whereas before they were inseparable during the train rides and after the Tribute Parade, and for most of the first day of training.

"I'm scared…I'm scared of it all too, everything that's happening." She says between her sniffling. "I-I don't want to die, Yoshi."

He stays silent, that being the first time she's said her name. Mari watches as the man processes everything she's said to him in the last couple of minutes. She's realistic in what he's going to say to her, he can sympathise with her but she knows that he could never truly know how she feels and that he wouldn't be able to do anything; she'll still be in the Hunger Games no matter what.

"I'm sorry, Mari." He says sadly, and she can see him beating himself up inside his mind too. "That's all I can say, I'm so so sorry."

"It's not your fault." She shakes her head. "I suppose it is what it is, and you're right."

"What am I right about?"

"I feel better now for letting it all out." She smiles, and that makes the older man smile too. "So, thank you."

She goes to hug him again, this time lightly and with so much compassion than before, when they pull back from each other they continue to smile. She feels slightly better, and she's slowly accepting that there's nothing that's going to change the Hunger Games, not in her lifetime anyway.

"Listen, the private sessions are nearly over, would you like to come into the living room to watch the scores?"

She nods her head, wiping the last few tears from her face. She didn't realise that she's been in her room for that long. She feels a bit dejected that Zhi didn't come in at all, but she pushes past that sadness as she stands up with Yoshi.

They leave the room, turning off the lights, turning off her sadness as she focuses on being positive. In the brightly lit living room, there sits Rolex, Zhi, their escort Tess, and the other stylist, Himiko. They all look at Yoshi and then at Mari who's standing right behind him like a shy child at a gathering.

Zhi stands first, his messy black hair on show, and an apologetic smile on his face. She wonders what that boy is thinking sometimes, but she's too afraid to ask him what he's thinking of. She doesn't want to ruin what they have together; whatever it is they have.

"Mari…" He speaks but Mari just shakes her head at him, a smile on her face telling him that's she's fine without actually saying it.

She does take his offered hand as they sit beside each other, the cream coloured couch soft and the warmth of Zhi's body comforting. She almost forgets the world around her; she wants to forget the world around her. She finds solace in it wanting to forget the impending doom that's going to come to them both, she can't even anticipate it.

She's happier now, sadness melting away, her emotions going from one to another; any form of negative feelings going away as fast as her cosying into Zhi's body. The boy lets her, not even moving away from her like he has been the last couple of days.

They watch the television in front of them, the Capitol insignia on the screen flashes with the anthem before fading to show the Master of Ceremonies: Phineus Keenzest. The man smiles at them, as if he's in the room. He gives a slight cough before speaking.

Mari closes her eyes, trying her best to stay positive.

* * *

_**Gharial Rivers, 18, District Ten**_

* * *

He heads straight for the shower after his private session, in a rush. Ignoring the calls of his mentors and ally as he bursts through the front door of their living quarters and straight into his room. Turning the metal knob of the shower with such force.

He feels the cold water hit his skin, and its uncomfortable, sure, but Gharial Rivers needs that. He needs to be punished for that session. Hating himself for it, because what he did there is not the Gharial that people know, not the boy from Ten that loves his father and siblings so much.

Gharial nearly vomits feeling the cold, his shivering form collapsing on the white tiles of the shower. Flashes of steel in his head flicker on and off as he curls into himself. It's sickening to him how he lost his head at that moment.

He didn't even know what happened, it's like all the repressed anger inside of him just burst from his body and took over everything, his body moving in a mad crazy dance. Bloody cotton everywhere when Theodora stops him with a shout.

He looked up panting holding the spear and sword in his hands. He looked at the damage that he had done, and he drops the weapons in his hand. He ran away after that, not even waiting for the Head Gamemaker to dismiss him.

He felt disgusted with himself at that point in time, hence the cold shower trying to make himself forget it all. His head doesn't seem to let him though making him see how he tears open many of the training dummies with his sword and how he punctures one or two with the spear.

The whole three or so minutes of the private sessions would be a success if he were a sadistic bastard, but he's not. He never will be like that person ever again. He lost a control, like letting a stubborn and angry bull loose in a bullpen trashing about waiting to be subdued.

He sits there, sitting up with his knees up to his face, letting the water pound at him. His form shaking from the cold, the bare skin showing off their gooseflesh; Gharial spotting the scar on his right leg, touching it softly with shaking hands.

The scar, funnily enough, reminds him of home. Bailey is nice and all, and she is from home; so is Rooster, his mentor, as well as Maybelle, Bailey's mentor, but it's nothing like the bond he shares with his family. His family would know how to comfort him properly, no offense to them all.

The scar reminds him that he's human, and that no matter what he does in the arena that he's no monster, that he's not the person that was in the private session. He bears the scars and takes the beating so that he doesn't become that monster, and he's wondering what triggered it all.

He looks away from the scar, putting his head in his hands as he leans on his knees once more, he tries to breath a shaky breath out; trying to relax against the cold water. He wants to be optimistic again because he promises Bailey that he would never make her feel anxious about the Games at all.

This is the same optimism that got both of them the alliance they are in now, leaning so much about them and their families back in their own district. He applies the same optimism so that Bailey can see that it's not all bleak, that she can still make friends despite the Hunger Games.

He's happy that he can focus on them all, instead of focusing on other pressing matters. He can't help being in the Capitol, can't help being trapped in an arena full of twenty-three other kids forced to fight; so, he might as well focus on his alliance and getting further into the Games, and eventually win.

He stands from the cold white tile, turning the dial to the warmer setting. His body relaxes more, tense muscles loosening up as he begins to wash himself. He readies himself so that he can face the people that he is currently living with, ready to face the scrutinization of them all.

He turns off the shower, grabbing one of the white cotton towels rubbing it against his bare body, no coarseness from the towel at all, he likes the feeling against his rougher Ten skin, days from being under the sun created such a hard skin.

He wraps the towel around his waist when he hears a knock at his door. He walks out of the bathroom listening to the knocking again, he assumes it to be Pedro, their escort, as nice as the man is he can be very pedantic when it comes to timekeeping.

"Gharial, it has been forty-five minutes." He says through the door, matter-of-factly, and the Ten boy just rolls his eyes as he put on his clothes. "The summation of scores will begin in fifteen minutes, I expect you to be here by then, please."

"At least he said please." He was right, it is their escort as he puts on a white cotton shirt, the same kind as the one he has been wearing the last couple of days after training. He partners this with a cream coloured pair of comfortable shorts, throwing the towel on his bed.

He leaves the dimly lit bedroom in favour of the bright lights of the hallway and equally brighter light of the living room. Pedro looking up from his gold wristwatch to see that Gharial is here, he stands up looking at him with bright green eyes. "Ah! Look who finally joins us! Come and sit down, the evening summary of the private session is about to begin!"

He joins the group that's sitting in front of the television. Bailey sitting beside Rooster him taking his mentor's other side. Rooster places a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezes it tightly, Gharial looks at him with curiosity and the man just smiles at him as he leans close to his ear.

"You alright, buddy?" He whispers, Gharial thanking him in his head that he's not making a big deal from his quick entrance all that while ago.

"Yeah…just a momentary lapse." He whispers back.

"Let me know if you have any problems, okay?"

He nods his head at that, leaning back into the couch, feeling the comfort and suddenly realising the tiredness wash over him in waves. He looks towards the screen as the Capitol insignia disappears and shows the ever glowing and obnoxious Phineus Keenzest; that's what they call him in their household, and he smiles a bit at that.

"_Welcome, Panem, the Capitol, good evening_." He collates the papers in his hand, the silver table shining from the stage lights, the man stands out from the grey background with his flashy yellow suit and similarly coloured hair.

"_Earlier today, our dear tributes from the twelve districts participated in a private training session with the Head Gamemaker, Theodora Vidia, who has then had the arduous task of ranking them all, against the skills they have shown her. Remember that the ranking goes from 1 being the lowest and 12 being the highest."_

Bailey looks on, she's brushing her long blonde hair with her hands, something she does whenever she's nervous. Gharial reaches over Rooster to touch her hand, him squeezing it lightly to reassure her that everything will be fine. She seems to understand the gesture as she smiles, listening to Phineus talk some more.

"Well shall we start folks?" A rhetorical question as the figure on their screen begins to read out how the scoring went for himself as well as the other twenty-three tributes.

"_We start with District One: Velvet Eclatant, a score of 10; Carnelian Wolfe, a 9; now onto District Two: Diana Grey, 10; Antonio Barracks, 11! District Three: Mari Caresse Katou, a 5; Zhi Penn Lu, 6; District Four next: Lily Mendoza, 9; Merrick Riviera, 8; District Five: Kenna St. Claire, 8 and her district partner Shade Grimoire, a score of 4; halfway through with District Six: Chevelle Wheeler, 8; Cyrus Sunbeam, 4." _The man stops for a moment letting everyone watching digest all the scores. "_We will be taking a short break ladies and gentlemen; I look forward to seeing you soon."_

The screen fades black and the Capitol insignia spins in the place of the Master of Ceremonies. Gharial lets the breath he has been holding, leaning back onto the couch with Rooster doing the same. He looks at the ceiling, the chandelier twinkling with the light.

"Strong bunch of tributes this year." Rooster says wiping his face with one hand. "Doesn't matter, we'll see what you guys and your allies get, okay?"

He agrees with a hum, the Two boy scoring an 11 comes to mind, scaring even him to the core. He can't barely imagine what Bailey is like instead when he goes back to look at her she's smiling at him.

_Be optimistic, Gharial._

He knows that the Ones, Twos and Fours would get a good score, considering the tenacity at which they trained during the last three days. He didn't anticipate the girl from Six or the girl from Five to both get 8's either.

Maybelle comes back from the kitchen and handing Bailey a glass of water. "Thank you."

"Hey, Bailey, we got this." He says to her being positive.

"I know." She smiles widely.

Pedro shushes everyone as the screen shows Phineus back on the screen. Rooster rolling his eyes and Maybelle hitting him in retaliation, telling him to be nicer to the escort. Bailey just giggles and Gharial smiles, maybe he can find comfort with these bunch after all.

"_Welcome back, sorry for the wait."_ Phineus smiles his pearly teeth as he switches the papers in his hand, collating them again on the silver desk.

"_And now for the rest of the tributes scores; starting with district Seven: Magdalene Juniper, 7; Ander Bayleaf, 6; District Eight: Francesca Appiani, 7; Lonan Baze, 5; District Nine: Avena Garner, 2; and our very first victor tribute: Rye Durum, 8! District Ten: Bailey Tauros, 2; Gharial Rivers, 9! District Eleven now: Ashley Allspicer, 9 as well and her district partner, Klayton Barker, 7; and finally, the last two districts from Twelve: Tey Antracit, 2 and finally Albin Cimber, 3."_

"_There you have it, the scoring round for the Twenty-Eight Hunger Games!"_ The man exclaims as he continues to read from his paper with gusto now. _"We look forward to seeing them all for the first time on the big stage where I interview them all! Phineus Keenzest signing out!"_

His face disappears behind the Capitol symbol along with the anthem of Panem in the background. Everyone is sitting quietly, Rooster and Maybelle looking at each other, both with worry on their face. Pedro doesn't say anything, opting to stay quiet as he looks from the two mentors to him and then to Bailey, who just stays silent.

Bailey then begins to tear up and then starts to cry, Maybelle rushing to her side quickly consoling the little girl, she didn't expect to get such a low score and Gharial didn't expect to get such a high score either, he's in shock and Rooster squeezes his shoulder again, quietly congratulating him.

He then goes to consoling the crying Bailey along with Maybelle, both are reassuring them that the score doesn't mean anything. The female victor telling her that she got a low score too and she still won; Gharial, however, sits there still stunned.

He didn't know what to do, there is a bitter taste in his mouth, it's unlike anything he has ever felt before. He's stuck and all he can do is stand up and run back to his room, slamming the door. He leans against the door, banging his head on it a few times before moving for his bed, removing the towel. A piece of paper flies from the force and he picks it up off the floor reading the note clearly left for him.

'_Meet us on the rooftop garden, we have a proposition for you.'_

There's no name on it and he scrunches the paper in his hand, throwing it away as he places his head between his hands, he wants to scream at the top of his voice. He doesn't want to meet this mysterious not writer, he doesn't have to go, or is this a threat?

He grabs a jacket and rushes out of his bedroom, passing the group still consoling Bailey, who, thankfully have stopped crying, gripping the door with one hand, holding his jacket with the other. He looks at Rooster who furrows his eyebrows at him.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to talk to someone." He says leaving before his mentor can ask him anymore questions.

He takes the elevator to the very top, a short journey for him, and when the door opens he feels a gentle gust of wind hit him, refreshing any other day, but threatening at this moment in time. He looks around the flourishing garden, and he sees them: The One tributes.

There are several other tributes out there too, the girls from Five, Six and Eleven as well as the boy from Nine. He walks closer to them all, the Nine boy sitting on one of the benches whilst the Six girl leans against one of the trees scattered everywhere. The Five and Eleven girl stand a little bit closer to where he's standing now; the girl from Five has her harms crossed and the Eleven girl looks disinterested.

"Welcome, Gharial." The boy from One says, Carnelian if he can remember from earlier.

"What are we doing here?" Rye asks him, the boy from Nine looks at Carnelian with a cautious look.

"I'd like to know the exact same thing." Kenna, from Five, says looking the One tributes up and down. "I was in the middle of something quite important before entertaining this little meet up."

"You One tributes are always up to no good, and that's the only good piece of advice I chose to listen to from my drugged-up mentor." Chevelle, from Six, says crossing her arms as she eyes Velvet.

"We're opening up our alliance, to you guys, plain and simple." Carnelian smiles a friendly smile. "When shit hits the fan, we'll come and help you in the Games, and trust us with all our scores together we can dominate the Games."

"What about your other allies?" Ashley asks him, the girl from Eleven looks directly at Carnelian who just shrugs.

"Don't worry about them." Velvet answers back. "It's simple, you either accept our offer or we target your alliances."

"Then count me out." Rye puts his hands in his pockets before standing up and looking at the One tributes. "I have my own alliance already, and judging by the others, I think they do too."

"I don't." Chevelle says and Rye looks at her with a raised eyebrow. "But ain't no chance in hell I'll be in a team with her."

"And what is that supposed to mean?!" Velvet shouts, and it takes all of Carnelian to keep her in place. "It might be best you disappear, _Chevelle, _because it's not looking good for you."

"You're right, I'm not the one asking for an alliance on the side, because she's threatened by the Two tributes." Chevelle says as she leaves her place by the tree, going for the elevator, passing Gharial. Rye follows her and they disappear behind silver doors.

"Rye is right," Kenna starts. "As much as I would _looove _to join this group of talented individuals, I think I found just the person that's good enough for me."

"Gharial?" Carnelian asks him, and the boy remembers the time where Carnelian has helped him with spear practice during the second day.

"I'm sorry." He says looking at Carnelian. "This all seems so pointless, unless you have us all marked for death, then I'm going back to my alliance."

He turns around, pressing the button on the elevator, Kenna and Ashley joining him. The doors closing on the garden, his brown eyes locking with those blue-hazel eyes before the metal doors cut their stares.

Gharial may have scored a high score, but he will never betray the allies he has. He doesn't have what it takes to look those people in the eyes and tell the that he's no longer a part of their alliance, he may be tainted but there's one thing Gharial isn't.

He's not a monster.

* * *

**A/N - Another update!**

**This is the scoring session of the Games! I got a bit carried away with the words and ended up with 10k...oop. I ended up doing something different than what I normally do which is to put the scores on another chapter.**

**The next 1-2 chapters would be Capitol-centric, we still have that tea party remember?**

**Sorry for the long read! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment telling me how long it is!**

**Questions:**

**What do you think Cyrus ended up showing in his private sessions?  
Diana is very inquisitive and mysterious too, right?  
****Mari and Zhi, trouble in paradise?  
Do you agree with Gharial's decision to ditch the offer of allying with the Ones?**

**Scores are as follows:**

**D1 - _Velvet,_ 10; _Carnelian_, 9  
**

**D2 - _Diana,_ 10; _Antonio,_ 11  
**

**D3 - _Mari,_ 5; Zhi, 6  
**

**D4 - _Lily,_ 9; _Merrick,_ 8  
**

**D5 - _Kenna,_ 8; _Shade,_ 4**

**D6 - _Chevelle,_ 8; _Cyrus,_ 4**

**D7 - _Magdalene,_ 7; _Ander,_ 6  
**

**D8 - _Francesca,_ 7; _Lonan,_ 5**

**D9 - _Avena,_ 2; _Rye,_ 8**

**D10 - _Bailey,_ 2; _Gharial,_ 9**

**D11 - _Ashley,_ 9; _Klayton,_ 7**

**D12 - _Tey,_ 2; _Albin,_ 3**

**Well? What do you think of the scores? Too high? Unfair? Let me know!**

**Reminder that the next couple of chapters is a nice break from the tributes and into the Capitol for the victor's tea party with President Nepos.**

**Cheers!**

**Alec**


End file.
